EARLIER  POEMS  BY  MISS  McLEOD 
SONGS  TO  SAVE  A  SOUL 
SWORDS  FOR  LIFE 


BEFORE   DAWN 


BY 

IRENE  RUTHERFORD  McLEOD 


NEW  YORK 

B.  W.  HUEBSCH 

MCMXVIII 


COPYRIGHT,    1918,    BY    B.    W.    HUEBSCH 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


r    r     c 

<     c    « 


DEDICATED 

TO 

A.  DE  SELINCOURT 


58055J2 


I 


My  brain  is  quick  with  mighty  themes, 
Whose  formless  passions,  blind  and  dumb. 
Beset  my  heart,  reproach  my  dreams  — 
O,  great  unborn,  your  hour  may  come! 

But  I  have  first  one  thing  to  do. 
Which  I  must  do,  though  all  else  dies; 
Tell  so  that  all  men  find  it  true. 
The  Truth  in  my  beloved's  eyes. 


CONTENTS 

Now  have  I  ended  the  vain  quest 7 

Folded  in  a  flower 8 

Under  the  grasses  where  we  lie 9 

Forgive  me,  dearest,  that  I  weep lO 

A  letter 1 1 

Now  April's  spring  of  life  is  come  .      .      .      .      •  14 

How  sweet,  how  soft  the  air! 16 

Memories 19 

Spring  is  gone,  and  summer's  here 22 

0  Love,  I  faint  in  herded  crowds 24 

It  is  long  since  first  I  fell 26 

Missing 28 

Life  I  crave,  or  death 29 

1  trod  this  road  to-day 35 

He  lives!     He  lives!     Now  swing  wide  every  gate  37 

I  follow  in  great  footsteps  when  I  dare  ....  39 

Many  shall  say  I  do  forget  the  times       ....  40 
Ask  how  I  dare  thus  lift  the  bloody  veil  .      .      .      .41 

Only  one  simple  thing  shall  make  men  wise  ...  42 

Seeing  all  fail  that  custom  fortified 43 

Out  of  the  ruins  of  their  shattered  gaol   ...  44 

And  though  they  cry  as  they  have  cried  before  .      .  45 

Sweet,  when  I  think  how  summer's  smallest  bird     .  46 

Shall  I  be  fearful  thus  to  speak  my  mind  ...  47 


When  sane  men  gather  in  to  talk  of  Love  ...  48 

In  heaven  there  is  a  star  I  call  my  own  ....  49 

Between  my  love  and  me  there  runs  a  thread  .      .  50 

O  heavenly  peace,  how  long  since  we  have  slept  .      .  51 

O  friend  of  my  dear  love,  what  have  you  done?  .      .  52 

O,  be  not  sorrowful  thus  distantly! 53 

O  Jealousy,  all  lovers  loathe  thy  name  .      .      .      .54 

"How  long,  I  wonder,  does  it  take  to  die?"  .      .  55 

Before  Dawn 59 

O  Love,  upon  how  few  thy  light 79 

So  many  die:  I  watch  them  go 80 

Asleep 83 

She  shines  in  flesh  and  blood  most  clear  ....  84 

Youth  lies  not  in  a  span  of  years 85 

My  blackbird  still  you  come 86 

Discharged  —  Totally  Disabled 87 

0  happy  wood  wherein  I  lie 89 

1  lift  my  worship  to  the  stars 91 

Before  Battle .      .          .      .  92 

To  her  critics  who  do  not  know  her 94 

You  called  me  "  Youth  "  because  my  years  are  young  95 

Earth  smiles  in  her  sleep 96 

Where  you  are  have  I  been 99 

Maggie  Winwood loi 

O  my  beloved,  how  to  keep  friends  with  time     .      .  125 


Now  have  I  ended  the  vain  quest, 
Now  have  I  put  my  heart  to  rest; 
The  flower  I  sought  is  withered  now, 
The  star  I  followed  flickers  low, 
The  kingdom  I  had  lived  to  win 
Crumbled  to  dust  when  I  came  in. 

You  found  me  crushed  beneath  the  throne 
My  dreams  had  coveted,  alone; 
The  king  I  crowned  at  my  right  side 
Proved  but  my  shadow,  born  of  pride, 
And  when  my  star  waned  overhead 
My  shadow  dwindled  and  was  dead. 

You  lifted  me,  you  kissed  my  eyes, 
You  kissed  my  heart,  and  made  me  wise, 
You  kissed  my  spirit,  and  I  know 
I  am  but  soil  where  love  may  grow. 
The  flower  I  sought  takes  root  in  me. 
Blossoms  for  you  immortally! 


U. 


//. ;  '.,•'.  >'.  {  ,'  'W   J  /•'-,  f,/ 


Folded  In  a  flower, 

I  saw  God  in  a  bower. 

Folded  In  a  cloud, 

I  saw  Death  in  a  shroud. 

Folded  in  your  eyes, 

I  saw  Love's  sunrise. 
The  flower  withered  into  seed, 
God  pushed  up  with  spring's  first  weed! 
The  cloud  was  melted  into  rain. 
Death  made  life  on  earth  again ! 
Your  eyes  are  shut  from  me  and  spring, 
My  soul  lives  by  Love's  quickening! 
Now  God,  Death,  Love,  In  my  heart  sing. 
Out  of  all  changing  strife 
No  end  may  be,  but  Life, 
Changeless  Life! 


8 


Under  the  grasses  where  we  lie 

The  old  quiet  dead  sleep : 

Among  their  tombstones  quiet  sheep 

Graze,  and  summer  larks  sing  high.  .  .  . 

Only  love  may  never  die ! 

Tender  as  love,  or  lover's  breast, 

Earth  spreads  sweet  thyme  against  my  cheek 

Soft  pillowed  on  a  grave:     O,  speak 

Out  of  the  wisdom  of  your  rest. 

You  gentle  dead  I     Is  love  not  best? 

Beloved,  bend  on  me  your  eyes, 
Eternal  truths  that  light  your  face; 
They  are  more  fathomless  than  space: 
A  bird  of  laughter  in  them  cries, 
"  We  die,  but  our  love  never  dies!  " 

I  hear  the  kindly  dead  beneath 

Me  whisper,  "Love  .  .  .  love  .  .  .  love!" 

Your  eyes  confirm  their  truth  above 

Me:  in  the  wind  I  feel  love's  breath: 

There  is  no  death !     There  is  no  death ! 


Forgive  me,  dearest,  that  I  weep. 
Forget  this  heresy,  and  keep 
A  prouder  memory  than  this 
Of  tears  that  spring  from  our  last  kiss. 
I  shall  not  weep  when  you  are  gone, 
When  death  and  I  are  faced  alone 
To  fight  the  long  grey  battle  through, 
Whose  darling  prize  is  love's  own  —  you  I 
I  shall  not  weep  then:  hold  me  now, 
Beloved!     Hear  me  make  my  vow  I 
Kiss  tears  and  sorrow  from  my  sight, 
I  will  be  proud  as  joy,  upright, 
Keen  as  an  arrow  that  shall  fly 
To  pierce  death's  gloom !     You  may  not  die 
While  my  thoughts  live !     They  are  like  flame 
Burning  about  your  cherished  name. 
Deeper  than  sorrow  our  peace  lies. 
Higher  than  laughter  our  joy  flies! 
The  heart  of  love  is  still,  yet  sways 
Life  in  Its  myriad  moving  ways. 
And  so  I  sit  at  the  heart  of  love, 
Swifter  than  birds  my  strong  thoughts  move 
To  build  for  you  within  hell's  gate 
Sanctuary  inviolate  I 
lO 


A  LETTER 

My  dearest,  since  we  said  good-bye, 
Since  the  last  pain  of  that  embrace, 
Since  the  last  glimmer  of  your  face 
Went  out  and  left  the  world  In  gloom, 
I  have  kept  faith:     I  went  to  He 
Wrapped  In  the  peace  of  our  loved  room 
For  comfort  —  as  you  bade  me  go. 
We  did  not  know,  we  could  not  know, 
How  time  has  shrouded  our  own  place. 
Beloved,  there  are  grey  sheets  spread 
Where  you  and  I  were  used  to  sit, 
Together,  quiet,  firellt, 
Speaking  our  hearts  In  holy  looks; 
Or  laughed,  or  cried,  or  kissed,  or  read 
Familiar  pages  of  old  books 
We  loved;  the  heaping  ash  Is  grey 
That  glowed  so  bravely  yesterday, 
And  I  must  cry,  remembering  it. 

So  glowed  my  faith  when  you  were  here, 
Kindled  and  fed  within  your  arm; 
It  laughed,  it  dared  our  vague  alarm 

II 


Which  sounded  fainter  then  than  leaves 

Whose  shuddering  warns  that  storms  roll  near. 

O,  easy  faith!     The  heart  believes 

The  thing  It  most  desires,  nor  sees 

Evil  or  death  till  chance  decrees 

The  thing  unfeared  when  lips  were  warm. 

I  crept  from  there,  I  fled  from  there 
With  hidden  face,  I  could  not  stay; 
The  eyes  I  love  drove  me  away 
With  smile  too  ghostly  sweet.     I  ran, 
Craving  the  sun :  but  all  the  air, 
The  tender  April  air,  began 
Soft  whisperings  of  "  Dear,  my  dear, 
Let  me  come  here  I     O,  I  am  here  I 
You  kissed  me  here  but  yesterday."  .  .  . 

And  over  all,  the  giant  plane. 
Whose  trailing  branches  close  the  round 
Where  earliest  flowers  star  the  ground, 
Snowdrop,  primrose,  daffodil, 
And  later  violet;  the  lane 
Where  flaming  gorse  and  briar  spill 
Their  poignant  smell;  the  river  wall. 
Our  daily  walk  —  O,  over  all 
Some  hand  has  spread  a  dusty  sheet 
Where  our  sweet  love  made  earth  more  sweet. 
When  you  come  back  —  O,  soon,  dear  love  I  — 
We'll  go  together,  arms  entwined, 
And  all  our  perfect  world  re-find ! 
Your  hand  shall  fling  these  shrouds  aside. 

12 


O,  like  twin  suns  we  two  will  move 
All  shadows  from  our  world,  then  hide 
Our  tired  hearts  in  our  own  peace, 
Where  noise,  and  fear,  and  madness  cease, 
Where  we  may  rest,  where  love  is  shrined  I 


13 


Now  April's  spring  of  life  is  come, 
Voice  of  lark  no  longer  dumb 
Flings  against  chaotic  sky 
His  adoring  harmony. 
Sun-loosed  brooklets  babble  through 
Woods  that  I  have  roamed  with  you, 
Daffodils  lift  smiling  bud, 
Laughter  skips  in  lover's  blood. 
Children  toss  their  coats  aside, 
Earth  is  every  poet's  bride. 
O,  my  darling,  were  you  here 
I  could  read  the  vision  clear  I 
O,  my  darling,  could  we  kiss 
I  could  join  my  soul  in  this; 
But  death  has  you  by  the  hand. 
While  I  among  the  glory  stand, 
Impotent,  and  blind  with  fears. 
Drowned  in  memories  and  tears. 
Every  blade  of  daffodil 
Spikes  my  heart  with  anguished  thrill, 
Mating  birds  mock  me  alone. 
Every  hour  hangs,  a  stone, 
Dragging  me  to  senseless  death  — 
Until  you  come  with  kindling  breath 

14 


Of  love  to  raise  me  from  this  grave 
Of  pain  I     O,  then,  though  winter  rave, 
Though  earth  lie  dead,  and  no  birds  sing, 
Mine  shall  be  everlasting  Spring  I 


15 


How  sweet,  how  soft  the  air  I 
Blackbirds  and  thrushes  pipe, 
All  blossom  buds  are  ripe; 
Lightened  of  winter  care. 
Larks  sing  the  growing  corn, 
And  joy  new  born. 

O  earth,  thy  mindless  things 
Obey  thy  word,  "  rejoice  I  '^ 
They  give  thy  passion  voice 
From  all  thy  garnered  springs : 
Men,  to  whom  all  is  given, 
Make  hell  of  heaven. 

Men,  whom  thy  love  did  bless, 
Making  divinely  free 
To  know  the  truth  they  see 
By  godly  consciousness, 
Blaspheme  thy  freedom  now 
With  bloody  brow. 

On  such  a  day  as  this, 
So  soft,  so  blue,  so  fair, 
x6 


This  sacrilege  they  dare  — 
Refuse  thy  golden  kiss, 
Fasten  their  souls  on  blood, 
And  deem  it  good. 

Mother,  thou  knowest  one, 
Thine  own,  thy  darling  child, 
Not  blind,  not  hate  defiled, 
But  clear-eyed  as  the  sun. 
Thy  lover !  he  is  gone, 
Faithful,  alone. 

Into  that  springless  land, 
Into  that  loveless  hell; 
Care  for  him.  Mother,  well, 
Cover  him  with  thy  hand, 
Put  thy  love  on  his  soul. 
And  keep  him  whole. 

Over  the  senseless  scream 
Of  lust,  give  him  thy  birds, 
Under  men's  hollow  words 
Give  him  thy  deepest  dream. 
And  let  him  not  forget 
Bluebells  blow  yet. 

But  should  mad  chance  return, 
My  darling,  to  thy  breast, 

17 


Whence  came  we,  let  me  rest 
With  him  in  thee,  to  burn 
Some  beauty  from  our  love 
In  hearts  above. 


i8 


MEMORIES 

In  the  long  feather  grass 

Up  on  the  hill, 
Only  the  mild  sheep  pass, 

Browsing  their  fill, 
Only  the  wind  is  not  still 

Where  we  once  loved. 

Over  the  quiet  hill 

White  clouds  in  fleet  .  .  . 
My  love  and  I  were  still 

On  a  day  that  was  sweet.  .  .  . 
Only  winged  clouds  from  our  feet 

Rose  when  we  moved. 


We  climbed  the  ash  with  trailing  boughs 

To  watch  the  dying  sun  go  down 

In  radiant  shrouds  he  nightly  weaves.  .  . 

The  harvest  moon  set  on  her  brows 

The  dusky  glory  of  her  crown 

To  rise  and  bless  her  sheaves. 

19 


Then  all  love's  starry  eyes  awoke 
To  smile  between  the  dancing  leaves 
On  us,  because  we  loved,  nor  broke 
His  golden  quiet  when  he  spoke. 


Not  a  cloud  In  the  blazing  sky, 
Not  a  breeze  stirred  the  heat, 
The  long  road  burnt  under  our  feet, 

In  July,  one  July. 
But  over  the  hedge  It  was  cool, 
Over  the  hedge  we  might  wade. 
Where  the  trees  spilled  their  luminous  shade 

In  a  shimmering  pool. 
And  so  we  went  trespassing  there. 

You  and  I !     You  and  1 1 
Where  the  bracken  stood  seven  feet  high, 
And  the  wood-pigeon  thrilled  the  green  air. 
And  yellow  light  dappled  the  green, 
And  water  splashed  somewhere  unseen. 
And  little  things  fled  from  our  feet; 
.  .  .  And  all  I  could  see  of  you,  sweet. 
Was  your  face  in  a  brackeny  frame. 
And  all  I  could  hear  was  your  voice  on  my  name 

In  July !     One  July  I 


20 


We  saw  the  sun  die,  royally  pyred, 
Then  home  came  we,  no  sadlier  tired 
Then  with  sweet  burden  of  lived  hours, 
And  loads  of  woodland  flowers. 

We  have  a  friend  —  O,  happy  we !  — 
Whose  spirit  soars  enchantedly; 
On  dancing  keys  her  fingers  move 
To  sing  our  song  of  love. 

Our  foxgloves  reared  ecstatic  throats, 
Each  bell  flew  wide  to  magnet  notes, 
While  we,  no  less  obedient,  found 
Our  day  dawn  new  in  sound. 


21 


Spring  is  gone,  and  summer's  here, 
They're  bringing  up  the  hay; 
Soon  they  will  be  harvesting, 
And  my  love's  still  away. 
I  see  the  apples  reddening, 
And  yellow  burns  the  wheat. 
Lovers  sit  in  summer's  heart 
And  sing  to  summer's  beat  .  .  • 
But  my  love's  still  away. 

He  lies  there,  he  cries  there, 

I  hear  him  night  and  day; 

I  cannot  hear  the  birds  sing, 

For  my  love's  still  away. 

I'll  not  go  through  the  clover  field. 

Along  to  Foxglove  Wood, 

Nor  climb  the  ash  on  Chapel  Bank 

We  chmbed  in  happier  mood  .  .  . 

For  my  love's  still  away. 

We  hated  never  man  nor  beast. 

Our  hearts  were  pure  and  gay, 

We  worshipped  love  in  gentleness, 

But  they  took  my  love  away. 

22 


They  sent  my  darling  butchering 
Other  women's  dears, 
And,  O,  the  cries  of  women's  hearts 
Ring  tolling  In  my  ears  .  .  . 
"  They  took  our  loves  away!  " 

O  summer  lanes,  O  summer  fields 
That  smell  so  sweet  of  hay. 
When  this  Is  done  and  truth  Is  won, 
Though  my  love's  still  away. 
May  happier  lovers  love  here 
Where  I  so  lonely  tread. 
And  build  a  shining  city  up 
Over  our  murdered  dead  .  .  . 
Though  my  love's  still  away. 


23 


0  Love,  I  faint  in  herded  crowds, 

My  spirit  cowers  from  them  in  shrouds 
Of  pale,  fastidious  contempt : 

1  beat  my  pride,  and  cry,  "  Exempt 
Yourself,  O  heart,  from  human  kind. 
Climb  too  aloof,  or  stay  behind, 
You  rot,  you  die!     Do  they  offend? 
May  love  be  stiff  necked?     You  must  bend. 
Learn  tolerance,  accept,  come  down. 
Love  never  wore  disdain  for  crown  I  " 

But  now  I  can  no  more  forbear! 

Dear  earth  is  blood-soaked;  everywhere 

These  puppets  mock  her  pain! 

O  Love,  they  wear  a  bloody  stain 

Over  their  lightless  brows !     Their  faces 

Mouth  such  monotonous  grimaces 

Of  joyless  smiles  and  griefless  gloom 

As  they  have  smirked  and  glowered  from  womb, 

Through  youth,  to  age !     These  bear  the  brand, 

O  Love,  of  guilt!     This  is  the  hand 

That  wrings  the  world  of  life !     O,  these 

Batten  on  death  like  flies!     They  squeeze 

Faint,  unaccustomed,  sensuous  thrills 

24 


From  the  heroic  life  youth  spills. 
I  do  condemn  them;  nor  forgive 
That  true  men  die  because  they  live : 
Because  they  made  of  peace  a  thing 
Stagnant  as  death;  because  they  lay, 
Not  knowing  love,  nor  work,  nor  play, 
With  flabby  bodies,  hearts  of  clay; 
Because  they  have  blasphemed  divine 
Beauty  thou  gav'st  like  light  to  shine 
Thy  holy  word  abroad;  because 
They  daily  broke  thy  gentle  laws; 
Because  their  children  all  were  born 
Of  loveless  custom;  because  they  scorn 
Thy  prophets.  Love;  because  they  buy 
And  sell  all  things  —  true  men  must  die  I 
Love,  dar'st  thou  ask  me  to  forgive 
That  my  love  dies  while  these  still  live? 


25 


It  is  long  since  first  I  fell 

In  this  evil  trance: 

What  foul  adder's  poisoned  spell 

Stung,  amid  the  dance 

Of  my  delight,  my  soul  to  sleep, 

To  walk  in  dreams  this  craggy  steep? 

It  is  long  since  I  have  heard 

Music  of  your  voice; 

Long  since  love  in  your  eyes  stirred 

My  spirit  to  rejoice; 

Long,  O  long  since  I  have  known 

Peace  from  your  touch  sweetly  grown. 

Now  all  the  world  is  plunged  in  hate, 

Men  weep  blood  for  tears, 

All  hell's  legions  lie  in  wait, 

Apathies  and  fears, 

Cold  despairs,  and  all  dead  things 

Hang  upon  love's  broken  wings. 

I,  snake-bitten,  cannot  wake, 
And  my  sleep  is  pain; 

26 


How  shall  I  this  cold  spell  break 
Whose  separate  strength  is  vain? 
Far  from  me  you  writhe  with  those 
Ghouls  who  on  my  spirit  close. 

Yet  are  there  no  walls  dark  and  strong 

Love's  heels  may  not  o'erlap. 

O,  come  I     O,  rouse  me  with  your  song! 

Break  —  break  this  hideous  sleep! 

O,  raise  me  up  from  where  I  lie! 

Come  soon,  O,  soon,  before  I  die! 


27 


MISSING 

I  KNEW  by  their  eyes  when  they  came, 

Lips  locked  on  a  word  unsaid, 

Hands  gentle  as  pity,  or  death  .  .  . 

It  was  I  who  cried  out  on  your  name : 

Life  paused  on  a  breath. 

"Missing."  .  .  .  Hope  sprang  like  a  flame  I 

Not  dead!     O,  my  love,  not  dead? 


28 


Life  I  crave,  or  death; 
Give  me  the  kiss  or  the  blade  I 
Men  battle  and  die  on  a  breath, 
But  women  who  love  them  must  wade 
Up  to  the  lips  in  a  sea 
Bitter  as  death;  they  are  flayed 
To  the  soul,  yet  await  the  decree 
Of  a  chance,  live  till  the  game  is  played : 
So  is  it  with  me. 

Bone  of  her  bone  she  sends  forth, 
The  mother  who  travailed,  and  so 
By  her  anguish  found  life's  utmost  worth. 
And  the  worth  of  these  trumpets  men  blow, 
Calling  her  children  to  kill, 
And  swell  with  her  blood  the  red  flow 
Of  earth's  dearest  life  .  .  .  while  some  fill 
Money-bags  by  her  woe! 
Soul  of  our  soul  is  the  price 
They  barter  with  lovers  for  pride 
Of  the  nations,  sacrifice 
More  fitting  the  cause  One  has  cried 
.  .  .  Dear  prophet  of  peace  upon  earth  .  .  . 
Saying  "  Love !  "  and  praising  life,  died 
For  the  fair  law's  birth. 

29 


O  life  of  my  life,  O  my  friend, 

Fellow-traveller,  lover,  beloved  1 

Fiends  have  torn  you  from  me!     O,  they 

rend 
Me,  they  scourge !     I  am  moved 
By  their  blows  In  foul  ways, 
So  blinded  with  pain  and  harsh  tears 
That  fall.     O,  where  are  the  days 
We  made  everlasting?     We  proved 
Death  a  lie,  yet  his  legions  of  fears 
Close  on  me  I     Caught  in  his  maze 
Am  I,  beloved!     Beloved  I 
O,  have  we  no  power  to  o'erleap 
These  prisons  of  flesh,  and  take  wing 
Through  this  darkness,  till  each 
Thrill  on  the  other,  and  sing 
With  one  voice,  with  one  speech. 
As  we  used,  "  Death's  a  lie  I     A  lie  I '' 
O,  arrowy  spirit,  come  where  I  weep 
In  the  dark,  for  without  you  I  die. 

Can  evil  touch  one  like  you? 

Gentlest,  radiant  soul! 

O,  where  is  the  good  and  the  true! 

O,  where  Is  the  heart  of  my  faith, 

If  evil  have  force  to  take  toll 

Of  our  love,  and  with  poisonous  breath 

Put  out  the  light  of  our  goal? 

Not  a  pore  of  you  harboured  hate, 

30 


Not  a  corner  gathered  the  dust 

Of  lies  from  which  other  men's  fate 

Springs  to  the  monster  who  must 

Destroy  them  .  .  .  for  men  create 

Their  gods  of  beauty,  or  lust, 

And  lies  give  birth  to  death, 

But  love  has  a  power  to  save, 

We  said  .  .  .  then  what  of  my  faith 

If  you  lie,  O  my  sweet,  in  the  grave? 

Ah,  there  strikes  the  root 

On  my  burrowing!     Sorrow  goes 

No  deeper:     "  Give  us  the  yea,  or  the  nay," 

Is  the  cry  of  the  heart  in  throes! 

**  Show  us  the  certain  way!  " 

.  .  .  Earth  flutters  her  sweetest  rose, 

Speaks  that  her  seasons  may, 

No  more!  .  .  .  How  often  have  we, 

Closed  in  our  soft  embrace. 

Your  lighted  eyes  on  me. 

Clasped  face  to  tranquil  face. 

Felt  ourselves  one  with  earth; 

With  her  soil  of  the  rotted  leaves, 

No  less  than  the  golden  mirth 

Of  daffodils,  or  the  sheaves 

Of  harvest  under  the  moon: 

How  many  times  we  said, 

"  O,  three  score  years  is  soon 

When  we  two  shall  be  dead!  " 

Yet  kissed,  and  laughed,  for  the  boon 

31 


Of  flesh  to  spirit  wed 

For  the  short,  sweet  space, 

Nor  grudged  to  give  again 

Our  life  to  life,  repay 

Our  debt  to  the  utmost  grain. 

—  Ah,  three  score  years  ahead! 

With  yet  countless  hours  for  play! 

But  death  to  the  heart  In  its  Spring, 

Death  to  the  mind  In  shoot 

For  Its  harvest  of  age,  the  wing 

Broken  before  its  flight. 

My  young  love  slain  for  loot 

Of  war?  .  .  .  O,  where  is  light? 

Sweet,  where  you  are,  do  you  know 
How  I  live  on  this  treadmill  of  hours? 
Eating  and  working  .  .  .  and  sleep. 
When  my  body  is  wearied  enough: 
LIghtless  and  guldeless  I  go, 
A  ghost  at  earth's  festival;  creep 
Leaden-footed  to  trample  her  flowers. 
Grief-maddened  to  give  her  rebuff 
For  her  smiles;  all  I  crave  is  the  deep 
Silent  heart  of  her,  there 
To  lie,  from  compassionate  eyes, 
Or  scornful,  of  men,  and  the  care 
Of  folding  locked  lips  on  my  cries, 
And  holding  the  shroud  I  must  wear 
For  a  banner  of  courage,  free; 

32 


Free  to  abandon,  lay  bare 

My  weakness  that  no  man  may  see, 

My  shame  for  her  pity  to  keep 

Till  your  voice,  voice  of  life,  bids  me  rise. 

My  shame  !     O,  my  failure !     My  shame ! 

Beauty  everywhere  mocks  me  with  this : 

She  comes  in  the  dawn  like  the  light 

Of  our  love,  glowing  rose,  like  our  kiss, 

With  the  swallows  at  dawn  on  your  name, 

Crying,  with  the  last  star  awake 

In  the  dawn,  which  broods  like  your  sight 

On  my  grief,  saying,  *'  Live,  for  my  sake  I  '* 

As  you  cried  to  me  once  in  the  night, 

Our  last  pitiful  night: 

She  comes  with  the  moon  sailing  high. 

Thrilling  the  clouds  to  delight 

As  she  passes  them  royally  by; 

She  laughs  with  your  laugh  in  the  wind; 

She  weeps  your  soft  tears  in  the  rain. 

Crying,  "  O,  how  shall  I  find 

You,  beloved?     I  seek  you  in  vain 

In  the  city  we  built !     O,  you  break 

Faith !     You  live  not  for  my  sake  I  *' 

O,  my  lover,  this  thing  you  ask 

Is  my  highest;  pity  me  then, 

Let  me  lie  for  a  merciful  space 

Hid  from  the  contact  of  men 

And  the  habits  of  living;  grant  grace 

33 


To  gather  my  strength  for  the  task! 

For  the  pride  you  demand,  well  I  know, 

Was  never  the  pride  of  the  mask, 

Poor  lie  for  a  coward  to  show, 

While  a  canker  of  death  at  the  heart 

Outward  to  husk  devours! 

...  As  the  growth  of  our  love  was  slow 

As  divine  unfolding  of  flowers, 

This  courage  for  life  must  grow; 

Kindle  each  dying  part 

To  the  springing  of  unknown  powers. 

That  I  live  as  you  bade  me  live. 

Though  my  heart  beat  under  the  knife, 

Thrill  to  life  as  before. 

Love  for  men's  love  give. 

Beauty  of  earth  adore: 

So  shall  my  spirit  move, 

Spirit  you  took  for  wife. 

With  yours,  O  my  love,  my  love! 

With  yours,  my  comrade  of  life  1 


34 


I  TROD  this  road  to-day 

Under  a  windy  sky, 

Where  swallows  soared  at  play 

With  silvery  flash  and  cry; 

And  rooks  wheeled  over  the  corn, 
But  beauty  of  earth  was  gall, 
And  the  cry  of  the  birds  was  scorn, 
Mocking  my  darling's  call. 

My  blackbird,  sweetest  note, 
Note  of  the  heart's  clear  bliss  .  .  . 
Out  on  him,  traitor  throat  .  .  . 
Derides  a  ghostly  kiss. 

Birds,  and  water,  and  wind. 
Music  for  hearts  at  play, 
Are  grown  to  me  unkind, 
And  I  hate  day. 

I  hate  day,  love  night; 
Now,  now  I  see,  I  hear! 
Now  my  love's  eyes  shed  light  I 
Now  my  love's  call  sings  clear  I 

35 


Now  his  eyes  brood  and  shine 
From  the  impassioned  stars, 
Now  my  love's  life  is  mine, 
And  no  noise  mars 

The  peace  of  quiet  things, 
Gentle  in  holy  sleep; 
Only  the  owl's  hushed  wings 
Make  silence  feel  more  deep. 

Night  makes  him  all  my  own. 
And  soul  on  soul  we  move, 
Wrapped  In  her  peace,  alone 
With  our  sweet  love. 


36 


He  lives!     He  lives!     Now  swing  wide  every 

gate 
Upon  thy  kingdom,  earth  I     O,  take  me  in ! 
Now  have  I  eyes  to  see  thy  beauty!     Now 
The  sun  rolls  from  his  long  eclipse,  and  hate, 
Attempting  worst,  has  failed,  and  terror's  din 
Sinks  from  the  peace  of  Love's  hand  on  my  brow. 

So  long,  so  long  have  I  in  exile  lain 
Crouched  In  the  dark,  nor  moved  in  any  light 
Save  memory's.     I  saw  no  flowers  but  those 
Of  last  year's  blossoming,  and  they,  for  rain 
Of  dewy  peace,  drooped  thirstily.     Now  white 
And  thornless  springs  this  summer's  crowning 
rose ! 

Now  lift  up  all  your  cups,  you  little  flowers ; 
Smile,  smile  upon  my  joy!     O  fields, 
Bow  all  your  grasses  to  my  laughter !     Sing, 
Sing,  my  lark,  my  blackbird,  for  Death  cowers 
To  Love  triumphant!     Sing,  for  now  he  yields. 
He  dwindles  in  the  shade  of  Love's  bright  wing! 


37 


O,  all  you  hearts  whom  sorrow  has  not  killed, 

Share,  share  my  joy!     O,  passing  eyes 

Of  strangers,  rest  on  my  sweet  peace,  and  you, 

Less  happy,  hate  me  not  for  envy;  stilled 

To  utter  gentleness,  my  new  heart  hears  your 

cries, 
Steels  to  resolve  .  .  .  this  shall  men  no  more  do. 

Since  Love  has  spared  me  on  fair  earth  to  live, 
Given  me  joy  to  make  me  more  than  clay, 
Given  me  my  beloved,  from  whom  streams 
My  light,  my  life;  for  all  Love's  gifts  I  give 
My  life  in  his,  to  bring  men's  night  to  day, 
My  brain,  heart,  hands,  to  serve  men's  nobler 
dreams. 


38 


I  FOLLOW  in  great  footsteps  when  I  dare 
In  Shakespeare^s  and  great  Dante's  way  to  write 
My  love  of  you;  yet  do  not  thus  compare 
These  songs  I  can  but  lisp  for  your  delight 
With  our  gods'  giant  perfection;  only  hear 
How  I,  so  small,  one  hand  of  theirs  might  cover 
All  that  I  am,  have  courage  to  speak  clear: 
Even  he  who  had  that  fair  Unknown  for  lover, 
And  he  who  worshipped  Beatrice  the  divine, 
Making  for  them  fair  worlds  which  we  inherit, 
Have  never  seen  your  eyes,  new  waking,  shine, 
Nor  nothing  know  of  your  heart's  lovely  merit  I 
Also,  beloved,  pride  inspires  my  pen 
When  I  do  think  they  could  but  love  like  men ! 


39 


Many  shall  say  I  do  forget  the  times, 
Turning  my  eyes  from  death  to  sing  of  love, 
For  love  is  dead,  they  say,  and  lover's  rhymes 
No  more  have  grace  men's  burdened  hearts  to 

move. 
But  I,  too  long  death's  constant  intimate. 
Making  one  grief  in  that  vast  sisterhood 
Whose  only  life  is  still  to  hope  and  wait 
Till  hope's  cause  be  removed,  and  whose  best  good 
Snatches  from  death  maimed  men  all  too  secure  — 
Having  most  weary  leisure  to  survey 
These  times,  yea,  time  itself,  whose  years  immure 
My  chafing  spirit  from  our  realms  of  day. 
Still  cry:  "  Love  lives !  "     Even  now  he  rends  the 

gloom 
Which  we,  forgetting  him,  once  made  his  tomb! 


40 


Ask  how  I  dare  thus  lift  the  bloody  veil 
From  hate's  black  maze  on  love's  futurity, 
And  I  shall  tell  how  once  we  two  set  sail, 
Twin  ships  of  joy  upon  a  summer  sea : 
And  I  shall  tell  how  neither  sun,  nor  star, 
Nor  compass  we  required  to  keep  our  charts  — 
Though  all  foul  winds  blew  storms  to  drive  us 

far  — 
For  our  one  course  was  writ  on  our  two  hearts; 
And  we,  obedient,  sought  no  other  sign. 
Though  many  warned  us  we  should  surely  stray. 
Until  our  sight,  grown  faithful,  could  divine. 
Writ  in  our  love,  the  dawn  of  a  new  day. 
Therefore,  if  I  am  bold  I  am  made  so 
To  brave  faint  sneers,  and  speaK  the  thing  we 

know. 


^I 


Only  one  simple  thing  shall  make  men  wise, 
Only  to  cast  their  laws  of  fear  away, 
Only  to  fix  on  Love  unanswering  eyes. 
And  him  in  all  things  only  to  obey. 
This    all   Love's   faithful   host   have    once   pro- 
claimed, 
Shakespeare  and  Dante,  Shelley,  Herbert,  Donne, 
And  all  the  angelic  band,  yet  they  are  famed 
Little  for  this  which  most  their  bays  has  won. 
For  hard  it  seems  to  hear  most  simple  things, 
And   though   the   world   is   learned   in   countless 

themes, 
The  blackbird  in  the  hedge  unheeded  sings. 
And  children  have  more  wisdom  In  their  dreams: 
But  still  Love  speaks,  and  men  shall  pause  to  hear 
When  fear  of  him  shall  cast  out  earthly  fear  I 


42 


Seeing  all  fail  that  custom  fortified, 
Worn  practises  of  earthly  monarchy, 
Statecraft  in  bloody  history  long  dyed, 
Churches  whose  gods  killed  God  in  rivalry; 
Seeing  all  these  which  men  with  patient  hands 
Laboured  through  aeons  against  the  light  to  rear 
From  dark  foundations  built  on  shifting  sands 
To  monstrous  towers  of  commerce  piled  in  fear; 
Seeing  all  these  fast  crumbling  at  their  base. 
Too  weak  to  bear  that  shameful  heavy  head 
Crowned  with  unwieldy  gold,  which  every  race 
Sweated  from  broken  hearts  of  their  own  dead: 
Seeing  all  these  rock  In  Love's  wrathful  breath, 
Shall  men  not  turn  to  him  who  conquers  death? 


43 


Out  of  the  ruins  of  their  shattered  gaol, 
Whose  ancient  gaoler,  Greed,  lies  choked  in  dust, 
Love,  singing  now,  to  soothe  their  fretful  wail, 
Shall  loose  their  irons,  festered  in  with  rust; 
Yea,  though  they  run  from  him,  he  Is  so  strong. 
He  has  such  patience  to  outmatch  their  haste. 
Such  gentleness,  he  will  not  leave  them  long 
In  these  poor  passions  life  and  joy  to  waste. 
Though  with  wild  eyes  and  foaming  jaws  they  yell 
Impotent  oaths  in  his  down-brooding  face. 
Smiling,  he  shall  deny  them  their  prized  hell, 
And  lift  them  to  his  heaven  by  his  grace. 
That  they,  by  Love  so  sweetly  overcome, 
Shall  vow  his  heart  their  city  and  their  home. 


44 


And  though  they  cry  as  they  have  cried  before, 
Love's  laws  lack  glory  when  he  bids  them  do 
No  more  than  love,  yet  soon  they  shall  adore 
His  simple  wisdom,  and  account  it  true. 
Slowly,  with  scarce  an  effort,  they  shall  see 
How  that  they  honoured  least  is  most,  is  all; 
Not,  as  they  deemed,  a  jest,  a  frailty. 
Nor  a  hot  fiend  whose  lusts  hold  men  in  thrall. 
But  something  more  and  something  less  than  these. 
In  June's  least  tender  bud  it  sleeps  and  grows, 
Waiting  its  chosen  hour  when  it  shall  please 
Burst  the  green  husk  of  truth,  or  of  a  rose : 
Then  bards  of  death  shall  cast  their  arms,  and 

throng 
Like  babes  to  be  instructed  in  life's  song! 


45 


Sweet,  when  I  think  how  summer's  smallest  bird 
May  better  sing  of  Love  than  I  who  love  you, 
That  I  can  sing  no  note  you  have  not  heard 
More  purely  sung  by  larks  in  skies  above  you, 
I  am  downcast,  forswearing  my  dull  pen  — 
Did  I  not  pause  to  think  how  birds  go  wooing. 
How  envious  shame  kills  not  the  little  wren 
Because  the  ring-dove  thrills  the  glade  with  coo- 
ing; 
Nor  does  the  speedwell  fail  to  lift  her  blue. 
Small  face  to  match  the  glory  of  the  sky; 
Content  to  know  her  tiny  worship  true, 
She  smiles  on  boundless  heaven  steadfastly: 
Then,  dearest,  I,  your  speedwell  and  your  wren. 
Learning  from  these,  take  back  my  banished  pen. 


46 


Shall  I  be  fearful  thus  to  speak  my  mind 
Lest  certainty  steal  virtue  from  our  joy? 
More  common  men  prize  all  their  greed  may  bind 
Save  love,  whose  sweets  possessed  they  dread  must 

cloy. 
Possessed!     Who  speaks  that  word  of  love  blas- 
phemes, 
Or  else,  too  dull,  he  merits  not  our  scorn. 
Such  fools,  save  when  they  sleep,  are  shut  from 

dreams; 
In  custom  are  they  bred,  of  custom  born, 
And  daily  rise  to  earth's  beneficence 
With  eyes  by  long  assurance  turned  to  stone. 
To  every  natural  wonder  hugely  dense, 
And  most  to  love,  whose  peace  they  dare  not  own ! 
Could  I  have  chosen  you  from  this  poor  flock? 
And,  loving,  shall  we  fear  to  build  on  rock? 


47 


When  sane  men  gather  in  to  talk  of  Love, 
Sometimes  I  lend  an  ear  to  their  discourse, 
Holding  my   tongue   while   those   more   learned 

prove 
How  this  experience  that  creed  must  endorse ; 
How  human  nature  —  wretched  scapegoat  — 

shows 
Monogamy  in  males  Is  nature's  freak; 
How  marriage  laws  —  as  every  woman  knows  — ■ 
Were  framed  by  men  to  render  women  meek; 
How  men  own  nobler  brains,  or  women,  souls; 
How  sexual  education  still  is  rotten  — 
And  so  the  mossless  pebble  onward  rolls: 
All  these  are  true  —  but  somehow  Love's  forgot- 
ten! 
Let  them  that  know  not  Love  apologise ! 
We  lovers  know  ourselves  the  only  wise  I 


48 


In  heaven  there  is  a  star  I  call  my  own  — 
Some  other  name  she  has  which  I  ignore  — 
Most  bright  she  is,  and  somewhat  moves  alone, 
With  this  peculiar  grace  which  I  adore  — 
She  has  a  look  of  my  beloved's  eyes, 
When  they,  so  steadfast,  meditate  on  me. 
And,  like  his  love,  no  comfort  she  denies, 
But  lights  my  saddest  darkness  faithfully. 
Another  grace  to  this  she  adds,  moreover: 
Living  so  high,  she  owns  us  both  her  wards. 
Our  separate  griefs  her  common  beams  discover. 
And,   war  and  death  surmounting,   say,   "  Love 

guards  I  " 
O  gentle  star,  thy  lovely  vigil  keeping, 
Draw  up  my  love  to  shower  on  him  sleeping  I 


49 


Between  my  love  and  me  there  runs  a  thread, 
So  hght  that  some  would  say  it  scarce  could  bind, 
Nor  does  it  serve  this  use,  which  hearts  too  dead 
For  love's  sweet  grafting,  profitable  find. 
O,  not  for  chains  our  airy  thread  was  spun 
From  fair  material  of  our  delight, 
When,  ever  keeping  noon,  our  suummer  sun 
Betrayed  no  shadow  of  approaching  night; 
But  that  through  fear's  illimitable  hell. 
Through  dangerous  seas  of  griefs  and  pains  un- 
known, 
We  be  not  wholly  lost,  but  still  may  tell 
Faintly,  each  where  the  other  moves  alone. 
When  wilt  thou  backwards  spin,  O  faithful  twine, 
Until  no  space  divides  his  heart  from  mine? 


50 


O  HEAVENLY  peace,  how  long  since  we  have  slept, 

Cradled  In  joy,  in  thine  enfolding  arms ! 

O  love,  how  long  that  we  have  prayed  and  wept. 

Still  insecure  from  watchful  death's  alarms ! 

O  love,  O  peace !  —  Or  is  there  none  to  hear? 

It  is  too  long;  we  are  so  tired  now. 

O  aching  hours  !     O  memory,  longing,  fear  — 

O  strength  despairing  —  hopes  that  strive  and 

bowl 
O  love,  how  I  am  fallen!     Can  you  see. 
Beloved,  through  this  gloom,  my  poor  disgrace? 
O,  send  your  stronger  hope  to  rescue  me ! 
O,  give  me  dreams  where  I  may  know  your  face ! 
Come,    come,    my    darling!     Life,    joy,    reason, 

come! 
Let  me  not  die !     O,  bring  me  safely  home ! 


5J 


O  FRIEND  of  my  dear  love,  what  have  you  done? 
You  whom  he  gave  his  rich  heart's  lovely  treasure, 
Whose  value  none  but  I  have  known,  no,  none, 
Though  all  to  pour  on  you  was  his  sweet  pleas- 
ure — 
You  have  betrayed  his  too  believing  trust, 
But  so  betraying  struck  a  double  blow, 
For  when  to  murder  him  was  your  young  lust. 
You  wounded  me,  whose  strength  you  could  not 

know! 
Poor  eyeless  soul,  when  he  laid  bare  his  heart, 
Saw  you  not  curled  within  Its  gentle  flame 
This  scorpion  janltress,  whose  watchful  part 
Is  to  destroy  who  comes  his  heart  to  maim? 
Nay,  if  I  sting  you  not  It  Is  his  will, 
Who,  being  Love's  most  faithful,  loves  you  still. 


52 


O,  BE  not  sorrowful  thus  distantly! 

In  this  injurious  grief  you  do  me  wrong; 

Struck  by  another's  hand,  you  banish  me, 

Turning  impervious  ears  to  my  soft  song. 

O  gentle  tears,  not  for  my  image  shed, 

Most  purely  sprung,  yet  dropping  turned  to  gall, 

You  make  a  sea  in  which  our  joy  lies  dead. 

Sunk  like  a  stone,  almost  beyond  recall. 

Almost,  I  say!      For  sorrow's  deepest  cup 

Is  not  too  deep  for  my  love's  thirsty  power! 

I'll  be  your  sun  to  drink  this  poison  up, 

And   kiss   our   sweet   drowned   joy  to   heavenly 

flower! 
Dear,  when  my  rays  have  blessed  your  eyes  awhile. 
Will  they  look  up  on  me,  new  lit,  and  smile  ? 


53 


O  Jealousy,  all  lovers  loathe  thy  name, 
Thou  inky  shadow,  walking  still  with  Love! 
Thou  art  not  Love's,  yet  blotching  his  fair  fajnc, 
Waiting  thy  time,  thy  steps  in  his  steps  move. 
Thou  canst  not  die :  thou  hast  no  life  to  lose, 
Else  hadst  thou  fallen  by  my  many  blows; 
Like  death,  thou  canst  not  speak,  and  we  must 

choose. 
Accept  thy  hidden  thorn,  or  drop  the  rose. 
How  many  times  hast  thou  in  darkest  night 
Pounced  on  my  heart,  and  leaped  with  me  to  death, 
Where  none  could  see  my  pain  for  lack  of  light, 
And  none  to  follow  me  had  any  faith ! 
But  not  thy  foulest  pit  my  heart  can  hide 
From  one  who  loves  me  more  than  peace  or  pride  ! 


54 


"  How  long,  I  wonder,  does  it  take  to  die? 

I'm  tired  of  pain,  and  that  damned  cloudless  sky. 

It's  June  in  England  now." 

^'Ach  Kamerad!" 
"  A  Boche,  by  Jove !  Well,  I  can't  move,  old  lad. 
Can  you  reach  out  your  hand?     There,  have  a 

swill. 
I  shan't  need  any  more:     IVe  had  my  fill. 
I'm  done." 

*'  I  also  —  thank  you  —  but  it  makes  It  less 
Difficult,  water." 

"  You  speak  English?  " 

"  Yes. 
I  had  an  English  friend  when  I  was  young; 
He  taught  me  how  to  speak  your  Shakespeare's 

tongue. 
I  loved  him:  he  was  my  David.     For  two  years 
We  shared  our  work,  and  play,  and  hopes,  and 

fears. 
But  he  is  surely  dead.     They  all  are  dead. 
Perhaps  he  fell  by  my  accursed  lead. 
That's  war." 


55 


"  Man,  what's  your  name?     I  seem  to  know 
Your  voice.     I  stayed  in  Stuttgart  years  ago; 
I  graduated  there." 

"  Stuttgart!     You  say 
Stuttgart!     My  home!  " 

*'  Man,  turn  your  face  this  way!  " 
"  Wait,  I  can  roll  —  ach,  Gott  I  —  yes,  now  I  see  1 
It  is!     It  is  I     John!'' 

"Hans!     God  pity  me!" 
"John!     O,  my  friend  —  my  friend — " 

"  and  we  are  dying ! 
"O,  Hell!     Hell!     Hell!" 

"  Ah,  stop  your  crying, 
John,  or  I  shall  die  before  we  speak 
Of  our  old  times.     My  eyes  are  getting  weak. 
I  can't  see  very  well,  but  you  are  changed." 
"  Dear  lad,  you're  older  too,   I   think.     We've 

ranged 
Heaven  and  hell  since  then.     Are  you  in  love?  " 
*'  Yes,  I  am  married,  John." 

"  Hans,  could  you  move 
A  little  nearer?     Put  your  hand  in  there. 
Look,  that's  a  bit  of  my  sweet  darling's  hair. 
When  men  are  dying,  Hans,  they  need  not  hide 
Their  tears." 

"  Ah,  John,  we  never  had  that  pride. 
What  pretty  hair !     It's  like  my  baby's  curls." 
"  Babies,  old  man?  " 


56 


"Yes,  John;  two  little  girls. 
O,  they  are  sweet !     I'll  show  you  —  damn  I     The 

blood 
Has  spoiled  their  faces,  and  it  was  so  good. 
Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  sing 
'Das  Vaterland'?" 

"  Yes,  and  '  God  save  the  King ' 
In  parts !     You  couldn't  keep  your  bass  in  tune  I 
O,  Hans,  can  you  believe  this  hell  is  June? 
How    we    loved   June    in    Stuttgart!     O,    those 

nights 
Under  the  stars!     I've  seen  such  filthy  sights 
Since  then  —  it's  all  mixed  up  —  how  long  ago? 
I'm  twenty-four:  five  years:  a  man  does  grow. 
Hans,  what's  it  all  about,  this  bloody  war? 
What  is  this  thing  we've  killed  each  other  for?  " 
"  Our  countries,  John." 

"  Hans,  put  your  arm  round  me. 
Hans,  what's  a  country  when  your  eyes  can  see 
Past  death  ?     What  have  we  done,  we  two, 
That  we  should  die  to  make  an  old  word  true  ? 
Who  made  this  war?     We  didn't.     But  we  die. 
I  wonder  how  the  old  ones  feel.     Some  cry; 
But  they  are  mostly  women,  scarred  and  bowed 
With    grief    and    dead    experience.     My    Dad's 

proud 
Of  his  three  sons  In  khaki." 

"  So  Is  mine 
Of  his  in  grey.     They  drank  the  oldest  wine 

57 


When  I  came  out  to  die.     They'll  celebrate 

My  honourable  death  with  deeper  hate 

And  fiercer  pride,  and  send  the  youngest  out 

To  put  the  Fatherland's  vile  foe  to  rout." 

*'  O  God,  the  things  they  say  I     Hans,  they  don't 
know 

The  truth  of  war,  or  they'd  not  blather  so. 

How  many  more  must  die  before  they  learn 

The  truth  at  last?     How  much  more  beauty  burn 

To  ruin  ?     O,  the  waste  !     And  what's  the  end  ? 

What  will  they  gain  because  I  killed  my  friend?  " 

"  You  did  not  kill  me,  John. 

My  country  did. 

And  I  became  my  country  when  I  hid 

My  free  soul  in  this  slavish  uniform. 

John,  I  can't  feel  my  hands  !     Is  my  hand  warm  ?  " 

"  No,  cold  as  ice :  we're  dying.     Hans,  your  eyes 

Are  just  as  blue." 

"  John,  when  this  body  dies 

Is  that  the  end?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  dear." 

"  What  will  our  women  do  ?     O  John,  I  fear 

Death  —  kiss  me,  John." 

"  His  lips  are  stone  1 

Hans!     Speak!     My  God,  he  can't  —  he's  gone. 

O,     damn!     Damn!     Damn!     Curse     all     who 
made  us  die! 

Warmongers  —  butchers  —  O,  my  sweet  —  good- 
bye." 

58 


BEFORE  DAWN 

Scene.  A  bed-chamber. 

Time.  Any  year  of  time,  at  night. 

Dramatis  Persona  \  ^   r\ 

(A  Queen. 

Queen 

Sleep,  my  babe,  as  yet  unborn 
To  our  heavy  world's  sad  scorn, 
Still  in  my  safe  keeping  grow 
Strong  to  bear  man's  bitter  woe. 

Weak,  and  proud,  and  blind,  and  free, 
Soon  shalt  thou  be  torn  from  me, 
Then  not  all  my  love  may  save 
Thee  from  sorrow  and  the  grave. 

O  my  babe.  If  I  could  keep 
All  thy  life  in  this  warm  sleep, 
Never  shouldst  thou  sorrow  know, 
Neither  should  thy  manhood  grow. 


59 


0  my  baby,  could  I  give 
Thee  my  tutored  soul  to  live, 
Thou  shouldst  know,  by  all  my  pain, 
What  is  loss  and  what  is  gain. 

But  love  will  not  suffer  this; 
By  thy  pain  and  by  thy  bliss 
Thou  must  find  thy  heaven,  sweet  — 

1  may  only  kiss  thy  feet. 

King 

Dearest,  your  eyes  are  wet.     Why  do  you  weep? 
Come  closer:  let  me  fold  you:  sleep,  O,  sleep! 
Soon  comes  to-morrow  with  a  thousand  things. 
Duties  —  acts  —  fears,  to  clip  our  wings. 
Thus,  folded  close,  we  make  one  truth,  one  joy, 
One  love  not  all  hell  can  destroy. 
And  so  we  fly,  instinct  and  reason  one 
Supreme  desire,  to  mingle  with  love's  sun. 
You  tremble,  and  you  cry  still? 

Queen 

Dear  —  my  dear  — 
I  dreamed!     O,  hold  me  —  closer  —  still  more 

near! 
Would  our  lips,  limbs,  hearts  might  mingle 
Until  our  life  dissolved  to  make  a  single 
Happy  dream !     Would  we  might  make  a  sea 

60 


To  drown  this  drunken  world's  dark  ecstasy 
Which  makes  a  brothel  of  fair  earth !     O  love, 
O  faith,  O  sorrow !     Is  there  no  power  above 
Men's  lusts?     Must  these  to  wreck  each  others' 

strength 
Drag  all  to  ruin,  till  love  dies  at  length, 
Starved  of  his  natural  joy? 

King 

What  was  your  dream, 
Beloved?     Wait,  the  candle's  cheerful  gleam 
Will  scare  these  ghosts ! 

Queen 

Dear  face,  I  dreamed  you  dead. 
Smeared  black  with  blood  —  and  all  this  beauty 

fled. 
O,  sweet  to  see  you !     Though  the  light  is  frail 
And  makes  strange  shadows.     Dearest,  you  are 

pale. 
Your  eyes  are  beacons!     Too  much  like  God's 

eyes ! 
Too  deep,  too  bright,  too  sorrowfully  wise  1 
Look  on  me  humanly  a  little  while. 
Kiss  me,  dear  lips.     Dear  eyes,  look  up  and  smile. 
Ah,  how  I  love  you ! 

King 

Yet  you  cry !     You  cry ! 
6i 


Queen 
You  are  my  life :  life  fails  me  when  you  die. 

King 

Why  do  you  harp  on  death? 

Queen 

It  is  my  dream. 
Hush,  I  will  tell  you.     First  I  saw  a  stream, 
Like  blood  or  lava,  burst  with  hideous  force 
Earth's    flowering   heart.     Swiftly    it    made    its 

course 
From  city  unto  city,  sweeping  in 
Beauty  and  squalor,  innocence  and  sin. 
Men  shrieked  and  filled  their  temples,  calling  loud 
On  God,  but  He,  wrapped  in  a  gorgeous  shroud 
Woven  of  ages,  mocked  them  with  glassy  stare, 
Until  they  spat  on  Him,  crying,  "  He  is  not  there ! 
O,  where  is  God?     God's  dead!     There  is  no 

God!" 
And  stamped  His  stony  face  in  the  dark  sod. 
And  still  the  fiery  river  swiftlier  ran, 
Until  no  monument  of  labouring  man 
Was  left  to  speak  of  time,  but  tottering  piles 
Of  ruined  stones  heaped  doom  and  death,   and 

miles 
Of  sombre  waste  spread  from  the  cities'  bounds. 
Invading  the  green  fields :  and  the  sole  sounds 

62 


I  heard  were  dying  groans,  and  the  sole  light  — 
O,  woe  —  shone  from  your  face,  whose  fading 

sight 
Willed  me  to  life  I     O,  cruel  to  bid  me  live 
Alone  in  a  dead  world! 

King 

Was  this  the  end? 

Queen 

No,  worse,  O,  worse !     Joyless,  without  a  friend, 

A  hope,  a  comfort,  I  lay  down,  outworn 

With  grief:  and  in  that  hell  our  babe  was  born. 

But  with  no  mortal  voice  his  first  cry  rang. 

And  with  a  giant  growth  his  body  sprang 

To  immediate  strength,  till  like  a  seven-year  boy 

With  firm,  quick  leaps  he  ran,  obsessed  with  joy  I 

He  gave  no  heed  to  me,  but  turned  to  climb 

Those    monstrous   tombs.     Then,    as   a    sudden 

chime 
Pierces  with  hope  of  dawn  the  sufferer's  night. 
His  voice  soared  up  in  roundels  of  delight: 
"  O  peace !  "  he  cried;  "  O  peace !     This  world  is 

mine!  " 
And  from  his  eyes  there  streamed  a  light  divine. 
Darting  huge  thoughts  so  terrible  and  keen 
I  trembled;  and  I  wept,  for  I  had  seen 
That  world  he  claimed  his  own :  it  was  a  grave. 

63 


But  he,  enthroned  on  death,  sang:     *'  Peace!     I 

save! 
O  life!     O  joy!  .  .  ."   and  then  I  woke,   and 

heard 
Your  voice,  and  in  my  side  our  unborn  stirred. 
O  then,  remembering  how  even  now 
Men's  rivalries  in  hate  stain  man's  sad  brow, 
How  on  each  side  they  call  on  you,  my  king. 
To  join  their  lustful  causes,  murmuring 
At  your  elbow  that  you  still  refuse 
To  brawl  with  them,  and  your  high  state  abuse 
With  guiltless  blood,  nor  harry  men  to  kill 
Their  brothers,  whom  these  ghouls  embroil  to  fill 
Their  itching  palms  —  all  this  remembering,  I 
Did  weep,  and  made  that  mournful  lullaby. 

King 

Is  there  not  triumph  in  this  dream? 

Queen 

Dear  lord, 
You   look   so   strangely.     Speak   some   homelier 
word! 

King 

Was  it  not  triumph!     Though  worlds  crack  and 

fall. 
Our  babe  sits,  simply  singing,  conquering  all. 
See  you  no  hope  in  this  ? 

64 


Queen 

Dear  love,  since  long 
You  have  been  secret.     Speak,  for  I  am  strong. 
Yes,  though  I  weep,  I  have  a  heart  to  bear 
All  that  endangers  you.     We  love.     We  share 
One  life.     Thank  you,  sweet  friend,  for  this. 

King 

Men's  rivalries  besiege  our  life  —  one  kiss. 

O,  when  I  look  thus  all  adoring  down 

On  you,  I  feel  the  glory  of  my  crown ! 

Not  that  false  crown  chance  placed  on  my  young 

head. 
Which  heavier  weighs  on  me  than  shameful  lead 
But  this  of  heavenly  gold  which  none  may  see 
Save  you,  my  fount  of  joy,  who  gave  it  me. 
No.     Do  not  shut  your  eyes.     You  must  endure 
My  longer  worship.     How  your  heart  is  pure, 
My  darling.     I  can  see  its  deepest  deeps. 
There,  by  your  love  made  whole,  my  image  sleeps. 
Your  fire  has  burned  him  clear  of  every  flaw; 
By  you  perfected,  strong  to  serve  love's  law, 
He  waits  his  time.     What  love  shall  ask  of  him 
He  shall  achieve.     Though  all  life's  stars  grow 

dim 
Your  light  shall  guide  him,  till  he  rise  to  do 
Deeds  worthy  of  our  love,  and  life,  and  you ! 


65 


Queen 

I  know  not  what  dark  sentence  I  await, 
But  I  do  love  you.     We  will  challenge  fate. 

King 

Brave,  brave,  and  dearer  than  all  dreams. 

You  are  my  dawn,  and  loose  my  frozen  streams 

Of  night-bound  hope.     Ambition  has  no  charms 

To  fool  me  from  this  haven  of  your  arms. 

No  brazen  glory  trumps  a  call  more  clear 

Than  your  soft  voice  that  bids  me  laugh  at  fear. 

Never  would  I  for  glory  flatter  death. 

On  whose  cold  honours  men  waste  hollow  breath. 

But  you  have  seen  how  I  am  herded  in 

By  envious  neighbours,  hoping  each  to  win 

My  sword  to  serve  their  schemes,  and  you  well 

know 
For  cither's  cause  I  will  not  strike  one  blow. 
I  think  there  scarce  is  any  cause  on  earth 
That  merits  war's  red  ban  on  children's  mirth. 
I  have  not  seen  one  yet.     Men,  when  they  fight, 
Each  yell  their  own  unanswerable  right. 
And  call  on  God  to  avenge  their  children's  blood. 
But  each  has  evil  wrought,  and  each  some  good. 
Who  shall  weigh  up  the  balance?     Who  dares 

wreak 
Vengeance    for   truth?     Not   I.     Let   that   man 

speak 

66 


Who  Is  omniscient.     When  men  dispense 
Justice,  always  they  punish  innocence, 
And  guilt  too  often  spare.     We  have  a  right 
To  spend  our  lives,  but  none  to  murder  life, 
And  none  to  prate  of  truth  who  practise  strife; 
And  he  is  dead  of  heart  as  he  is  bold 
Who  dares  a  people  lead  to  death  for  gold, 
Or  power's  increase,  or  any  worldly  gain 
Which  must  be  bought  with  blood,   and  crime, 

and  pain, 
And  all  the  inevitable  shames  of  war. 
Dogma  and  gold!     These  dead  illusions  are 
Death's  banners  always:  men  whose  natural  soul 
Rejects  them  both,  yet  sink  In  with  the  whole. 
Dreading  the  lonely  track  of  an  ideal 
Which  none  but  God  and  they  perceive  is  real. 
You  know  our  neighbour's  quarrel?     Is  it  good? 
Worthy  one  drop  of  happy  human  blood? 
Ten  miles  of  earth  whose  smallest  virtue  is 
She  smiles  above  rich  ore  each  swears  is  his ! 
Each  to  the  hilt  has  proved  his  righteous  claim. 
Embracing  centuries  of  wars  and  shame. 
Indeed,  if  any  right  there  be  in  it, 
I  think  the  younger  man  is  proved  most  fit 
To  trade  this  wealth;  the  other  lags  behind 
The  times;  besides,  his  is  a  dull,  dishonest  mind, 
I  like  him  not.     But  war  for  this?     I  swear 
It    shall    not    be!     I    urged    them:     "Reason! 

Share ! 

67 


Take  equal  portions !     Brain  with  brain  compete 
If  you  must  live  by  conquest  and  defeat!  " 
They  scowled  on  that !     To-morrow  I  must  speak, 
Beloved,  my  last  word.     What  shall  it  be  ? 

Queen 
Urge  them  once  more. 

King 
Dear  heart,  they  cannot  see. 

Queen 


Yet  hold  by  love. 


King 


That  have  I  sworn  to  do. 
My  oath  takes  pinions  sanctified  by  you ! 
Yet  listen:  men  opposed  by  mutual  greed 
Will  often  join  twin  hates  to  serve  one  need 
When  danger  stronger  than  their  puny  spite 
Threatens  them  both.     Suppose  these  two  unite 
To  murder  me?     Fools  have  a  craven  dread 
Of  thoughts  they  cannot  know,  their  minds  being 

fed 
By  that  old  spinster  custom's  barren  breast, 
From  which  they  suck  cold  passions,  all  oppressed 

68 


By  her  forbidding  eye.     They  fear  sweet  day, 
And  welcome  secret  gloom,  nor  dare  display 
Their  naked  spirits  to  the  clear  caress 
Of  love's  creative  sun,  which  burns  to  bless 
All  beauty's  living  forms;  and  so  they  hide, 
Decking  their  small  desires  in  shame  and  pride, 
Until,  so  cramped,  each  natural  beauty  shrinks 
To  foul  deformities  whose  illness  stinks. 
These  are  fear's  slaves;  at  his  obscure  command 
They  crowd  and  crawl  to  lick  his  clammy  hand, 
And  with  a  frantic  courage  flock  to  guard 
His  ghostly  realm  from  love's  invading  sword. 
By  these  am  I  beset.     They  threaten  me. 

Queen 

Yet  even  these  were  born  divinely  free  I 

For  twice  ten  thousand  years  their  souls  may  die. 

But  they  shall  bloom  in  love's  eternity. 

Let  reason's  slow  persuasion  teach  them  love. 

King 

You  bless  my  will !     Now  shall  no  power  move 
My  mind  from  this  endeavour !     But  again 
Listen,  for  I  must  strike  with  deadlier  pain : 
Last  night,  when  I  was  wandering  alone 
About  the  city  streets,  I  heard  a  groan 
At  my  feet,  and  stooping  down  to  find 
Its  cause,  I  felt  a  dagger's  point  behind 

69 


My  ear :  it  did  but  graze.     I  caught  his  hand 
Who    struck   me,    then   his    throat,    till   he,    un- 
manned — 
He  was  a  hired  craven  —  all  confessed. 
The  dagger  aimed  to  strike  my  bending  breast, 
But  in  the  dark  he  missed.     Sweet,  he  was  set 
To  kill  me.     They  are  sworn  to  kill  me  yet. 

Queen 

Now  may  I  shut  my  eyes?     But  keep  still  near: 
I  want  to  see  the  happy  past.     Most  dear. 
Do  you  remember  once  —  it  was  In  June  — 
We  slept  together  under  a  young  moon, 
When  we  were  young?     Without  a  dream  of  hate 
You  smiled  upon  my  heart,  unheeding  fate. 
There  was  a  gentle  breeze  —  I  feel  it  now  — 
Which  robbed  the  lemon  flower  to  bless  your 

brow. 
And  every  time  its  breathing  stirred  your  hair 
You  smiled,  and  I,  because  your  sleep  was  fair. 
Cried  happy  tears.     How  cool  night's   inward 

palm 
Upon  our  souls !     How  large,  how  greatly  calm 
Her  starry  judgment  brooded  on  our  joy, 
Whose  passion  burned  too  pure  for  shame's  alloy. 
Then,  suddenly,  wide  flashed  your  tranquil  eyes  I 
You  cried  my  name !     I  saw  your  spirit  rise 
Through  the  inmost  cells  of  life,  articulate 
With  meaning  words  had  left  till  then  innate 

70 


Between  us,  and  I  felt  my  answering  soul 
With  beating  wings  rush  out  to  be  made  whole, 
Losing  its  poor  identity  in  this 
Immortal  birth  of  self-destroying  bliss  1 
Do  you  remember,  love? 

King 

O,  very  well ! 
And  with  our  kiss  such  peace  upon  us  fell 
As  holds  us  still  within  its  strong  embrace, 
And  I  have  sweet  remembrance  of  your  face, 
Luminous  with  the  countless  gathered  beams 
Of   suns,    and   moons,    and   those    accomplished 

dreams 
Which  light  the  unseen  world  where  lovers  live 
In  perfect  truth,  which  only  love  may  give. 

Queen 

Then  were  we  born  of  love :  now  must  we  do 
Love's  labour  faithfully  if  we  are  true 
Let  us  be  love's  most  faithful.     If  we  die 
We  shall  not  be  the  last  men  crucify 
For  hate  of  love,  as  we  were  not  the  first. 
For  such  revenge  men  have  unsated  thirst. 

King 

Your  dream  was  truer,  dearest:  say  not  we! 
Ah,  never  fail  our  love !     Accomplish  me ! 

71 


Queen 

Must  I  live  on  without  your  love?     You  ask 
More  than  my  strength  can  bear  in  that  long  task. 

King 

Our  strength  must  grow  to  equip  our  firm  desire ! 
Look  up,  my  soul!     Who  lit  in  me  this  fire? 
Who,  when  my  heart  squandered  youth's  April 

hours 
In  sensuous  dreams,  struck  all  my  buds  to  flowers? 
Who,  like  a  cloud  melting  in  arrowy  rain 
Its  heavenly  form  to  live  on  earth  again, 
Nourished  with  her  rich  life  my  barren  roots? 
What  sun  has  ripened  all  my  flowers  to  fruits? 
Who,  like  a  fiery  angel  born  of  peace. 
Bid  war  of  sense  and  spirit  in  me  cease, 
And  with  a  single  gesture  did  combine 
These  foes,  who,  reconciled,  make  man  divine? 
Who  plumed  my  lagging  feet?     Who   stripped 

my  eyes 
With  burning  kisses,  of  those  scalely  lies 
Which  blind  the   loveless?     Who   did   arm  my 

soul 
To  kill  sloth's  worm  in  me?     Who  made  me 

whole? 
You !  you  did  this !     You,  with  your  keen,  sweet 

breath, 
Charged  with  fierce  life  my  world,  denying  death  I 

72 


You  have  denied  him!     Dare  he  enter  now? 
You   crowned  me  living!     Shall   death   rob   my 

brow? 
Can  we  be  separate  whom  love  made  one? 
No !     For  our  life  is  gathered  in  that  sun 
Whose  universal  beams  new  life  will  shed 
Long  aeons  after  worlds  and  we  are  dead! 
Ah,  dread  you  this  division  of  our  flesh? 
Sweet,  so  do  I.     O,  heavenly  mesh 
Of  light!     O,  temple  fools  and  apes  defame, 
That   holds,   not  hides,   the   soul's   quick-leaping 

flame ! 
Not  a  faint  wrinkle  carven  on  your  face 
But  speaks  like  music  of  some  mental  grace 
Poets  can  never  sing.     I  do  adore 
These  shadows  near  your  temples,  and  that  store 
Of  light  in  each  warm  iris,  like  clear  water. 
Bedded  with  peace,  and  flecked  with  airy  laughter ! 
O,  and  your  lips  make  such  a  tender  curve 
As  evening  on  a  hill  we  know:  each  nerve 
Quick  with  a  growing  truth  expressive  is. 
And  must  I  lose  this  joy,  and  this,  and  this, 
On  which  my  insatiate  eyes  so  sweetly  browse? 
Needs  must  we   face   the   ends   of   this?     Who 

knows 
That  ever  again,  though  Individually 
We  still  live  on,  these  souls  of  you  and  me 
Shall  be  expressed  in  shapes  our  transformed  eyes 
Beyond  the  forgotten  grave  may  recognise? 

73 


We  have  no  certainty.     But  we  have  faith! 
O,  say  it!     Sing  it!     Dart  your  kindling  breath 
Into  my  trembHng  courage !     We  believe 
We  cannot  part  whom  love  did  once  conceive 
Together!     Alone    my    strength    is    vain.     O, 

speak! 
Else  am  I  for  my  purpose  grown  too  weak. 

Queen 
I  do  believe. 

King 

We  know  not  how  we  live, 
Being  dead,  but  only  that  our  life  must  give 
Ever  new  life,  and,  in  all  forms,  new  life ! 
O  well-spring  of  delight,  O  friend,  love,  wife, 
We  have  a  child  who  shall  be  born  to  sorrow 
And  lord  of  all  the  ruin  of  to-morrow  I 
Your  life  is  his.     For  him  you  needs  must  stay 
A  little  while  to  point  him  love's  true  way. 

Queen 

Leave  me  your  testament  of  Truth,  lest  I, 
Whose  strongest  hope  must  be  thenceforth  to  die, 
Forget.     But  first  lift  me  upon  your  heart; 
My  soul  hath  eyes  too  keen.     Soon  must  we  part. 

King 

O,  my  life  rocks  In  anguish !     O,  my  sweet, 
Be  granite !     Suffer  not  my  soul's  defeat. 

74 


Queen 

Speak,  speak,  beloved:  dawn  will  soon  be  here, 
Cradling  thoughts  whose   acts   shall  make  joy's 
bier. 

King 

O,  would  that  love  had  power  such  as  men 
Attribute  to  their  lesser  gods,  for  then 
He  should  remove  us  to  some  happier  sphere 
Where  dreams  grow  true,  unpruned  by  death  and 

fear. 
There  should  we  dwell,  simple,  and  gay,  and  free, 
Till  gradual  change  unfold  eternity. 
Yet  have  we  in  our  minds  a  world  as  fair, 
More  real,  than  this  regret:  we  breathe  an  air 
Which  evil  dares  not  penetrate.     This  is 
Our  babe's  inheritance  from  our  last  kiss. 
Tell  him  to  make  that  world  reality 
For  all  who  live  and  love :  teach  him  to  see 
Perfection  through  the  imperfect  forms  which  veil 
Infinite  Truth,  whose  cause  he  must  not  fail 
Though  time's  most  huge  illusions  gather  force 
Against  his  single  faith,  nor  swerve  his  course 
To  encounter  shadows.     Let  him  still  be  bold. 
And  firm,  and  gentle.     Let  his  love  enfold 
All  who  have  seen  the  light,  and  seeing,  strive; 
For  smallest  truths,  well  served,  keep  Truth  alive. 
Let  him  not  mould  the  eternal  to  a  creed 
Whose  limits  may  deny  one  human  need: 

75 


Not  one  whose  heart  moves  truly  with  his  lip 

Must  be  shut  out  from  love's  free  fellowship. 

O,  teach  him,  love,  such  gentleness  of  strength, 

Activity  of  peace,  that  he  at  length 

Gather  all  men  within  love's  boundless  realm 

Whose  service  Is  true  freedom.     This  hard  helm 

His  tender  hands  shall  ache  to  hold :  this  tide 

His  soul  embarks  on,  glowers :  but  he  must  ride 

All  storms,  nor  follow  any  other  chart 

Than  that  resolve  love  writes  on  his  pure  heart. 

O,  little  child  who  shall  be  born  to  us, 

I  charge  thee  by  these  kisses,  thus,  and  thus. 

Fall  not  thy  heritage !     O  give  no  way 

To  those  foul  legions  of  fear  and  hate 

Which  for  the  single-hearted  He  In  wait. 

By  this  true  love  which  thee  begot,  be  true ! 

Queen 

You  speak  farewells!     O,  what  must  women  do 
Whose  hearts  would  break,  but  may  not? 

King 

You  would  not  have 
My  body  safe,  my  mind  a  beggared  slave? 
When  you  look  so  I  have  a  mind  to  give 
My  spirit  compromise,  truth  fail,  and  live. 
How  can  I  leave  you?     O,  my  love,  my  love, 
Why  do  the  ways  of  God  so  darkly  move? 

76 


May  none  who  worship  truth  have  also  peace 
While  on  our  murdered  joys  life  makes  increase? 
Ah,  vain  importuning.     Let  us  be  still; 
Our  anguish  may  not  shalce  life's  hidden  will. 

[He  goes  to  the  window. 
Night's  starry  judgment  looks  as  calm  as  when 
We  slept  in  joy,  nor  feared  the  hate  of  men; 
But  one  by  one  her  eyes  are  going  out, 
And  eastward  dawn  smiles  wanly,  as  in  doubt 
Of  her  next  steps :  sad  owls  flit  homeward  crying, 
And  In  the  willows  a  cold  wind  is  sighing. 
Over  the  solemn  pines  my  eyes  still  strain 
To  keep  night's  last  star  living,  but  in  vain; 
Only  her  memory  burns :  yet  who  shall  find 
Which  Is  most  true  —  her  beauty  in  the  mind 
Or  that  more  actual  light  which  fades  and  dies? 
I  think  love  gives  our  souls  immortal  eyes 
Outliving  space  and  time.     O,  now  young  morn 
More  certain  grows,  and  like  a  hope  new  born 
Bends  shameless  gaze  and  rosy  brows  to  meet 
Earth's  kindling  worship  that  adores  his  feet 
In  all  those  liquid  gems  of  fiery  dew 
Lighting  the  emerald  lawn  and  dreaming  yew. 
Our   Mother   Is   grown  young  with   blossoming 

May; 
Her  bosom  breathes   faint  scents,  her  eyes  are 

gay. 

She  trembles  with  divine  expectancy 
Of  heavenly  dreams  made  keen  reality. 

77 


She  trembles  —  hopes  —  adores !     O,  bright  de- 
sire, 
My  soul  Is  lost  In  thine  Infectious  fire ! 
O,  aged  heart,  whose  sap  is  ageless  youth, 
When  shall  thy  stubborn  children  learn  thy  truth, 
And,  loving  thee,  grow  thy  more  worthy  guests? 
What  men  to-day  shall  rise  from  their  long  rests 
With  thoughts  to  mould  their  acts  in  harmony 
With  this  royal  beauty  spread  for  them  by  thee? 
I  have  a  hope  that  soon  a  day  shall  come 
When  men  shall  know  thy  hills  and  fields  their 

home. 
And  learn  such  reverence  to  keep  it  fair 
That  love  may  build  his  shrine  for  ever  there! 
When  that  day  dawns,  fear,  hate,  and  war  shall 

cease, 
And  men's  sole  rivalry  shall  be  for  peace. 
Brothers  !     Awake !     The  dawn  is  surely  here. 

[He  falls  back  suddenly,  struck  by  a  dart. 
O,  I  am  killed  1     My  heart  —  O,  hate  —  death, 

— fear  — 
O,  climbing  sun  I     O  love  —  remember  love  I 

Finis 


78 


O  Love,  upon  how  few  thy  hght 
Descends !     O  Love,  how  few  have  sight 
Beyond  the  hour!     How  many  bear 
Thy  torch?     O,  what  men  wear 
Thy  sign,  the  large  clear  look 
Of  sympathy?     Who  writes  thy  book? 
Who  sings  thy  word?     O  Love,  come  down 
Among  us  now  I     Now  set  thy  crown 
On  brows  to  lead  us,  and  Inspire 
Our  fainting  faith  with  thy  keen  fire ! 
Let  not  thy  children  fall !     O,  give 
Them  life,  that  their  resolve  may  live 
To  serve  thy  truth,  though  all  else  die ! 
Love,  hear  our  cry! 


79 


So  many  die :  I  watch  them  go, 
And  nothing  of  their  going  know. 
Beyond  my  touch,  beyond  my  sight, 
Into  old  darkness  a  new  light 
They  pass,  nor  leave  a  track  behind 
For  me  to  follow.     No  man's  mind, 
Though  It  be  keen  as  flame,  may  cleave 
The  blank  between  us;  nought  they  leave 
Of  life  or  earth  .  .  .  but  that  quick  part 
Of  them  still  springing  In  my  heart! 
Each  living  thought  of  them  I  had, 
Tender,  or  strong,  or  gay,  or  sad. 
Each  time  I  marked  a  look,  a  tone, 
A  lighted  brow,  a  gesture  done 
Delightfully,  a  sudden  poise, 
A  sweet  defect,  a  lilt  of  voice. 
All  my  soul's  raptured  eye  may  see, 
Springs  seed  of  their  dear  life  in  me. 
And,  O,  divinely  more  than  this. 
Rare  words  of  love,  rare  touch,  or  kiss. 
Or  tears  between  us !     These  may  give 
Immortal  life  of  theirs  to  live! 
Life  I  must  live  for  them  each  hour. 
Life  without  end,  by  love's  sweet  power. 

80 


Therefore  I  live  attentively: 

Perhaps  this  radiant  earth  I  see, 

This  life  in  husk,  life-budding  shoot. 

Green  leaf  unfurled  from  age-old  root, 

June  fields  in  dewy  light  new  born. 

Noon's  burnished  glow  on  mellow  corn, 

Soft  evening's  tranquil  touch  on  curves 

Against  a  sky  whose  banner  swerves 

It's  trailing  gold  from  west  to  east; 

This,  that  my  soul  draws  down  for  feast 

Lest  in  a  world  of  noise  it  die  .  .  . 

This  earth  I  love  lives  but  as  I 

Have  garnered  all  its  life,  and  when 

I  take  my  leave  of  earth  and  men 

Death  shall  be  all  I  have  not  seen. 

And  heard,  and  lived,  and  loved,  and  been! 

Life  shall  be  all  I  made  my  own 

By  worship !     All  the  beauty  known 

By  loving  it!     By  love!     I  see 

The  heart  of  immortality! 

No  cleavage  here !     No  clanging  gate 

Between  our  worlds  !     By  love  create 

Undying  life;  by  living,  love! 

So,  fiery  wheels,  expanding,  move 

Laws  universal !     So,  no  end, 

And  no  beginning  .  .  . 

Let  me  spend 
My  days  In  worship.     Let  me  go 

8i 


Gathering  sweetness.     Let  me  know 
The  hidden  source  of  things :  fling  wide 
My  soul  through  sense  to  beauty,  ride 
All  venturing  winds  on  this  high  quest, 
Until  this  little  span  of  breast 
Holds  world  on  world  ...  so  may  I  prove 
The  death  of  death,  the  life  of  love ! 


82 


ASLEEP 

Sleep,  my  darling,  let  me  stay; 

Do  not  move : 
Open-eyed  I  take  my  rest, 

Cradled  In  love. 
In  work,  in  play. 
You  have  escaped  my  eyes  all  day; 

Lie  now  on  my  breast. 

Be  serene  and  clear  to  me, 

Laughing  brow  I 
Kissed  Into  sleep,  O  kindling  lips, 

Smile  on  me  now! 
Hush!     Now  I  see 
Your  spirit's  form  rise  nakedly! 

A  sun  without  eclipse ! 


83 


She  shines  in  flesh  and  blood  most  clear, 

Our  mother,  who  so  much  delights 

To  mould  In  holy  beauty  things 

Men's  passion,  cramped  and  tortured,  blights 

Passion  which,  free,  might  give  them  wings, 

A  chariot,  not  a  bier! 

But  O,  the  body  speaking  soul. 
Not  killing  it !     The  living  sheath 
Revealing  what  were  else  obscure, 
Inspired  aflame  by  love  beneath! 
So  have  we  Nature  singing  pure, 
So  read  her  vision  whole ! 


84 


Youth  lies  not  In  a  span  of  years, 
Nor  age  in  the  body's  decay. 
Grief  dries  not  with  the  fount  of  tears, 
Nor  joy  with  the  end  of  play. 

Youth  climbs  on  with  his  face  to  the  sun, 
Age  circles  round  and  back; 
Youth's  road  is  daily  new  begun. 
Age  crawls  a  beaten  track. 

Youth's  hands  are  stretched  to  bless,  to  smite, 
■He  flings  his  heart's  doors  wide; 
Age  locks  his  hoard  from  all  men's  sight. 
And  rots  his  soul  inside. 

I  know  a  man,  he  is  crowned  with  joy, 
And  scarred  with  years  and  pain; 
The  same  crown  kings  a  shining  boy 
Who  bears  no  conqueror's  stain! 

One  says,  "  I  serve  the  truth  I  know!  " 
One  battles  to  be  wise: 
One  light  streams  from  them  as  they  go, 
One  smile  sleeps  In  their  eyes. 

85 


My  blackbird,  still  you  come 

And  still  you  sing; 
No  pain  can  make  you  dumb, 

No  sorrow,  no  regret. 
Death  only  kills  the  joy  whence  spring 
Your  songs.     You  fail  not,  nor  forget. 

No  passions  stir  your  voice 

High  or  low; 
Simply  you  do  rejoice 

For  love,  love,  love  I 
Sweet  love  that  does  not  come  and  go, 
But  is,  beneath  all  shows  that  move. 

Sweet,  you  will  sing  love's  praise 

Until  you  die. 
Worshipping  all  your  days. 

No  shame,  no  fear,  no  doubt 
Can  make  your  fount  of  song  run  dry, 
Like  ours,  nor  shut  your  heaven  out. 


86 


DISCHARGED  —  TOTALLY  DISABLED 

So  death  was  cheated  of  you !     Here  you  lie 
In  your  own  place  beside  me :  you  did  not  die ! 
I  must  repeat  it,  learn  this  truth  by  heart: 
You  did  not  die !     You  did  not  die  !     No  part 
Of  you  is  dead!     O,  sleep,  my  darling,  sleep; 
You  are  at  home,  you  must  not  hear  me  weep. 
When  I  have  learned  my  lesson  I  shall  not  cry  — 
You  did  not  die !     You  did  not,  did  not  die ! 
I  will  not  gull  myself.     I'll  hold  the  light 
Closer,  that  I  may  see  each  ugly  trace 
Death  made  in  missing  you:  he  clawed  your  face 
Most  hideously  of  all,  because  he  knew 
I,  his  foe,  loved  its  beauty;  blew 
Blood  in  your  eyes,  seared  the  lids  black  and  bare, 
Branded  your  brows  —  my  blessing  rested 

there  — 
Then  as  a  treacherous  coward,  beaten,  afraid, 
Lunges  to  mark  his  conqueror,  he  laid 
His  twisted  seal  upon  your  lips  and  fled. 
Harried  by  love  and  me ! 

O  piteous  head! 

87 


O  bloodshot,  staring  eyes!     O  branded  brow, 
O  tortured  lips,  how  should  I  know  you  now? 
No  feature  Is  the  same,  no  look,  no  sign 
Of  what  I  knew  is  left  to  prove  you  mine. 
You    cannot    smile!     That    was    death's    ugliest 

blow  I 
You  cannot  smile !     The  lips  I  used  to  know 
Smiled  in  their  sleep  for  me;  they  laughed  all  day, 
For  every  changing  thought  a  different  way 
Of  smiling  for  my  joy,  but  they  smiled  best 
In  sleep,  against  my  heart,  kissed  into  rest. 
And  now  you  cannot  smile,  all  hacked  awry, 

0  warm,  gay  lips  —  and  yet  you  did  not  die ! 

Beaten,  death !     You  are  beaten !     Though  I  see 
This  mask  of  him  you  have  returned  to  me, 
Though  every  wound  gapes  by  this  flickering  light, 

1  have  another  lamp  !     Another  sight ! 
His  spirit  lives,  and  all  his  beauty  lives ! 
You  cannot  pilfer  in  my  soul !     Love  gives 
His  gifts  immortally!     Not  time's  decay, 
Nor  violence,  nor  thou  can  take  away 
Beauty  made  mine  by  love !     Even  now  I  find 
His  living  beauty  flaming  in  my  mind. 
Burning  out  all  your  scars,  old  foe,  and  here. 
Here  on  the  pillow  smiles  serenely  clear 

His  own  familiar  face!     The  mask's  a  lie! 
Nothing  of  him  is  dead!     He  cannot  die! 


S8 


O  HAPPY  wood  wherein  I  lie, 

Were  your  bright  flowers  afraid  to  die? 

On  withered  leaves  I  rest  my  head 
And  think  of  all  the  summers  dead. 
Each  foxglove  shakes  a  wizened  throat, 
Winged  seeds  fly  up  for  winds  to  float; 
Primrose  and  pale  anemone 
Flaunt  winter  leaves  to  smile  on  me; 
Earth's  million  springs  beneath  my  feet 
Take  voices  thunderous  to  speak; 
And  sap  which  for  a  hundred  years 
Has  decked  the  beech  in  smiles  and  tears, 
Given  the  hoary  oak  a  grace 
Gentle,  almost,  as  my  love's  face. 
Made  the  swaying  poplars  dance 
Like  laughter  in  an  infant's  glance. 
Loosed  the  tender  larches'  hair 
Above  the  face  of  bluebells  fair; 
This  fiery  sap  of  summer's  crown 
Draws  my  sluggish  spirit  down, 
Down  and  down  where  summer  sleeps, 
Down  to  darkest  hidden  deeps, 

89 


Where  unnumbered  tangled  roots 
Garner  life  for  unborn  shoots; 
Down  and  down  where  every  clod 
Sings  like  any  bard  of  God, 
Deep  as  sorrow,  dark  as  death. 
Where  old  earth  takes  laboured  breath, 
Breath  of  life  for  every  blade 
Springing  green  in  field  and  glade, 
Anguished  breath  of  holy  pain, 
To  laugh  among  the  windy  grain  — 
Who  shall  know  what  travailing 
Wakes  the  new  born  eyes  of  spring? 

Patient  Mother,  I  have  come 
With  some  withered  flowers,  home: 
Some  were  flowers,  some  were  weeds, 
Life  has  given  to  both  their  seeds; 
Lying  in  thy  heart,  I  pray 
Winds  may  bear  the  weeds  away 
Where  their  roots  shall  sprawl  in  vain  - 
But,  O  my  flowers,  spring  again  I 


90 


I  LIFT  my  worship  to  the  stars 
Which  crown  the  quiet  face  of  night, 
Thinking  on  them  who  lust  in  wars 
And  turn  their  hearts  from  love's  delight. 

I  think  on  them  who  cannot  read, 
Truth  God  has  taken  pains  to  write 
In  every  star,  in  every  seed. 
In  every  hour  of  love's  delight. 

0  friend,  too  long  estranged  from  me, 
Shall  we  with  them  our  strength  unite 
Who  never  had  humility 

To  take  the  kiss  of  love's  delight? 

Because  I  know  no  other  way 
To  heal  a  heart  of  ancient  blight, 

1  cast  mine  from  me,  and  I  pray 
A  heart  made  new  in  love's  delight. 

If  you  would  cast  your  heart  with  mine, 
Haply  with  clearer,  gentler  sight. 
Our  new-born  hearts  would  then  incline 
To  meet  again  in  love's  delight. 

91 


BEFORE  BATTLE 

O  God,  sweet  morning  brings  the  hour 
When  I  must  rise  to  play  my  part  — 
Dawn  which  unfolded  like  a  flower 
When  she  I  love  slept  near  my  heart  — 
My  part  In  that  dark  shrouded  whole 
Which  claims  enslavement  of  my  soul. 

0  God,  I  know  not  what  I  do, 
Yet  must  I  do  the  thing  I  dread. 
Though  I  may  scarce  believe  that  true 
Which  brands  on  my  unwilling  head 
Another's  blood,  another's  groan, 
For  cause  no  more  than  mine  his  own. 

When  I  look  up  on  this  fair  face 
Of  night,  whose  pure,  untroubled  eyes 
Look  down  through  such  unmeasured  space 
That  to  their  view  my  darling  lies 
Within  these  arms  spread  wide  on  sod  — 

1  cannot  think  on  hate,  O  God. 


92 


Then  must  I  pray  for  hate  to  spur 
My  nerveless  hand  to  smite,  and  kill, 
And  put  out  all  my  thought  of  her 
Whose  powers  of  love  my  spirit  fill 
With  joy,  and  wonder,  and  delight? 
Love  will  not  lift  my  hand  to  smite ! 

That  shining  seed  has  roots  too  strong 
Which  her  dear  kiss  sowed  in  my  heart; 
I  cannot  hate  because  her  song 
Calls  me  to  play  another  part. 
O  God,  what  prayer  shall  he  pray 
Who  falsely  in  his  part  must  play? 

O  that  Thy  stars  had  power  to  move 
From  their  bright  orbits  fixed  on  high 
To  write  in  burning  signs  above 
Thy  meaning  unmistakably. 
O  God,  whose  ways  are  hid  from  me. 
Grant  me  to  see  I     To  see !     To  see  I 


93 


TO  HER  CRITICS  WHO  DO  NOT 
KNOW  HER 

She  is  my  friend.     Until  you  have  suffered  pain, 
Self-loathing,  doubt,  despair,  and  looked  in  vain 
For  comfort  in  yourself,  in  books,  in  God; 
Sought  in  the  dreary  maze  some  path  to  plod 
To  freedom,  lost  it,  hurled  all  faith  aside, 
Abandoned  will  to  drift  with  any  tide ; 
Then,  tired,  battered,  humbled,  found  her  eyes 
Beaconing  hell,  passionate,  gay,  and  wise; 
Felt  the  firm  pull  of  her  small,  faithful  hand 
Upon  your  courage,  heard  her  command  you  stand 
To  your  own  soul's  stature,  felt  her  spirit's  touch 
Like  spring  on  death- — you  have  not  known  her 

much ! 
Therefore  be  still,  and  learn  humility 
Not  to  deny  all  things  you  cannot  see  I 


94 


You  called  me  "  Youth  "  because  my  years  are 

young ! 
You  whose  bright  years  have  garnered  up  rich 

truth 
Of  joy  and  pain,  until,  like  jewels  strung 
On  your  ageless  brow,  they  dart  infectious  youth 
On  all  who  love  you !     Youth's  own  golden 

tongue. 
Whose  laughter  kills  dull  error  without  ruth, 
Runs  like  God's  joyous  hound  to  bay  among 
These  sheep,  the  old,  the  withered,  tame,  uncouth 
Flock  of  custom,  bids  me  now  proclaim, 
O  heart  as  young  as  love,  as  old  as  time, 
O  you,  great  Shakespeare's  dear  interpreter. 
While  love  and  Shakespeare  still  have  force  to  stir 
Men's  hearts,  the  years  shall  but  enshrine  your 

name  .   .   . 
When  I,  poor  "  Youth,"  lie  banished  with  this 

rhyme ! 

For  Ellen  Terry, 


95 


Earth  smiles  In  her  sleep 

For  the  coming  of  her  bridegroom, 

For  the  touch  of  his  lips  on  her  eyes, 

For  his  strength  to  call  to  her  beauty. 

Earth  holds  out  her  hands 

In  the  night  for  her  beloved. 

Life  stirs  in  her  womb 

With  the  promise  of  fulfilment. 

They  come  —  a  whisper  of  flowers, 

A  quickening  wind  in  the  grasses, 

A  glint  of  little  eyes, 

A  pulse  that  beats  in  the  shadows. 

O,  no  more  hate! 

No  more  room  for  hate! 
Only  love! 
Spring  comes  with  the  morning. 
She  lays  her  hands  upon  me 
To  make  me  whole, 
Puts  her  lips  on  mine. 
Sucks  the  poison  from  me. 
Leaves  me  whole ! 
Looks  upon  me,  laughing, 
Pierces  my  heart  with  gladness. 

96 


No  more  sin  is  in  me! 
Spring  iias  made  me  whole  1 

O,  no  more  hate! 

No  more  room  for  hate! 
Only  love! 
Lift  up  your  hands  to  her, 
As  I  do,  my  beloved! 
She  with  her  young  breasts 
Shall  nourish  you  from  sickness  I 
She  makes  light  in  the  veins 
Flow  like  laughter!     Laughter! 
Lift  up  your  lips  to  her ! 
She  gives  you  her  gay  blessing! 
She  puts  her  sign  upon  you, 
The  holy  kiss  of  love ! 
Dear,  set  up  no  dull  barriers 
Of  anger,  of  hatred: 
Turn  not  your  face  to  the  wall. 
Locking  yourself  in  darkness. 
Because  of  me  and  my  folly ! 
Turn  me  not  away ! 
Spring  has  taken  me  to  her, 
I  am  hid  in  her  garments, 
Waiting  the  smile  of  your  eyes. 
I  have  bitterly  fallen, 
And  wept  in  the  cold  dust; 
But  spring  has  come  upon  me, 
She  lifts  me  in  her  bosom. 
Lo,  now  she  brings  me  to  you, 

97 


To  He  where  I  belong, 
In  mine  own  resting-place, 
My  home,  your  heart. 

O,  no  more  hate! 

No  hate! 

Only  love! 
Turn  me  not  away, 
O  you  who  touched  my  spirit 
And  kindled  me  to  flowering; 
For  here  shall  I  lie,  weeping. 
Until  I  be  let  in 
Into  the  light. 

O,  no  more  hate! 

No  hate! 

Only  love! 


98 


Where  you  are  have  I  been: 

My  steps  you  tread 

In  worlds  where  all  things  seen 

Move,  yet  are  dead; 

Where  no  new  hope  springs  green, 

And  all  joy  Is  fled. 

No  depths  of  this  deep  hell 
Have  I  not  known; 
No  lies  hag  Fear  can  tell 
Haunt  you  alone ; 
Many  times,  lost,  I  fell 
Where  you  make  moan. 

Behold  these  fading  scars, 

Healed  in  love's  dew, 

Marks  of  Inglorious  wars  — 

Reckon  them  true ! 

Hot  from  shame's  branding  bars, 

Once  they  were  new. 

Blindfold  I  know  this  track, 
Love,  where  you  roam ; 

99 


Here,  where  night  falls  most  black, 

See,  I  am  come! 

Love,  let  us  turn  us  back, 

Let  us  go  home. 


100 


MAGGIE  WINWOOD 

I  HEARD  it  all:     I'm  old,  you  see, 

And  they  don't  pay  much  heed  to  me. 

I've  lived  my  three  score  years  and  ten, 

And  more  besides;  women  and  men 

Grown  up  along  of  me  lie  still 

In  churchyard  up  on  Biggin's  Hill. 

Old  friends  they  are :     I  never  had 

No  quarrels  since  I  was  a  lad. 

And  Ernie  Winwood  —  he's  been  dead 

Two  years  come  Easter  —  looked  to  wed 

The  lass  I'd  set  my  heart  on;  well, 

I  won,  and  we  was  cold  as  hell 

Till  my  lass  died  —  we'd  only  been 

A  year  together  —  then  his  spleen 

Died  in  her  coffin.     Sometimes  death 

Does  things  like  that:  his  cruel  breath 

Turns  kind,  and  roots  up  weeds.     It  seems  so  long 

Since  my  lass  died.     There  was  a  song 

She  used  to  sing,  and  all  this  time 

I've  tried  to  think  of  that  last  rhyme. 

But  it  won't  come :  often  of  nights 

It  keeps  me  waking,  calling  sights 

lOI 


Of  ouc  young  times.     Ah,  no  one  knows 
The  sweetness  of  the  way  it  goes 
Excepting  me,  and  I've  forgot 
The  end.     Well,  Ernie  rocked  the  cot 
She  left  her  life  in:  a  fine  lass 
It  was  —  O  Lord,  how  time  do  pass  I 
The  hair's  grey  on  her  pretty  head, 
And  her  girl's  old  enough  to  wed. 
That's  what  I'm  telling  of:  you  see, 
I'm  old,  and  they  don't  notice  me. 
I  like  to  sit  here  in  my  nook; 
Old  eyes  see  plain  because  they  look 
Past  all  the  shapes  they  can't  make  out 
Into  the  things  they're  most  about; 
Young  Maggie's  shape's  quite  dim,  but  I 
See  like  a  flame  when  she  goes  by. 
I  don't  hear  all  the  words  she  says, 
But  when  she  laughs  there's  a  touch  plays 
On  strings  inside  me :  when  she  cries 
A  bit  of  me  goes  cold  and  dies. 
She  cried  last  night:  that's  where  I'm  coming 
If  I  could  keep  my  mind  from  roaming. 
Ernie,  you  see,  he  took  a  wife 
Who  kept  him  kindly  all  his  life, 
And  bore  him  seven  sons.     Their  Harry 
And  my  girl  Kate  come  home  to  marry: 
Now  Maggie's  twenty.     We  still  light 
Her  birthday  candles.     Every  one 
Tells  of  lovely  things  she've  done  I 

102 


Each  time  another  candle's  burned 
It  shines  for  some  sweet  thing  she've  learned. 
We'll  light  another  one  this  year 
And  let  it  flame  for  every  tear, 
And  let  It  blaze  in  hell  and  heaven 
To  pray  men's  sins  be  all  forgiven; 
And  ask  God's  justice  to  be  kind 
As  love  In  little  Maggie's  mind. 
Would  to  God  she'd  never  loved 
A  chap  like  Jim  that's  tramped  and  roved, 
And  turned  his  hand  to  anything; 
Not  shamed  to  hold  his  cap  and  sing 
For  pennies  in  the  gutter,  too ; 
A  chap  like  that's  not  fashioned  true. 
All  right  to  kiss  when  youngsters  play, 
But  Maggie  gave  her  soul  away. 
She  couldn't  make  a  game  of  love. 
Her  heart's  too  clear.     She's  like  a  dove, 
Though  with  an  eagle's  wings  she  flies; 
My  heart  drops  blood  when  Maggie  cries. 
She  gave  her  soul  to  waster  Jim; 
A  lot  of  good  It  did  for  him ! 
For  If  you  drop  good  seed  In  sand 
You'll  never  reap,  you  understand; 
And  if  you  give  your  love  away 
To  him  whose  heart's  no  more  than  clay 
You'll  never  kindle  clay  to  fire. 
And  all  your  love  will  drag  In  mire. 
But  if  you  give  your  love  aright 

103 


You'll  live  your  days  in  sweet  delight, 
And  angels  up  In  heaven  sing 
For  joy  and  holiness  you  bring, 
And  things  turned  foul  when  others  do 
Them  foully  shall  be  good  In  you. 
All  this  I  know  from  things  I  see 
When  people  take  no  heed  of  me. 
They  wheel  me  In  to  hug  the  fire, 
Because  my  veins,  like  rusty  wire. 
Have  no  more  heat  of  their  own  making. 
And  my  old  palsied  bones  and  quaking 
Nerves  crave  fire  when  there's  no  sun: 
That's  how  I  know  what  Maggie  done. 
It  happened  this  way.     They  came  In 
Same  as  usual:  the  same  din 
I've  heard  for  five-and-seventy  years 
Almost,  but  now  I'm  old  my  ears 
Hear  only  what  they  want  to;  once 
I  cursed  that  wind-bag,  Tony  Bruce, 
For  clucking  so,  but  now  their  hum 
Can't  spoil  the  flavour  of  my  rum! 
Dick  Masters  preaches  sin  In  chapel; 
I've  wopped  him  for  a  stolen  apple ! 
Charlie  Pursy,  stout  and  trim. 
Forgets  the  times  I've  dandled  him  I 
It's  queer  how  little  men  do  grow; 
I  see  'em  underneath,  you  know. 
They  seem  like  kids  a-playing  men 
For  all  the  sense  they've  learned  since  then, 

104 


Only  they've  put  on  beards  and  pomp 
And  quite  forgot  the  way  to  romp. 
If  they  could  romp  they  might  learn  sense, 
And  keep  a  sprig  of  innocence; 
But  as  it  is  they're  mostly  sheep, 
Enough  to  make  a  grown  soul  weep. 
Well,  they  was  telling  the  same  yarns. 
How  rats  got  into  Charlie's  barns. 
And  how  the  fowls  was  laying  bad. 
And  Tony's  pup  had  gone  clean  mad 
And  bit  him:  that  was  where  1  heard 
Jim's  name,  and  Maggie  somehow  stirred: 
I  know  she  did,  for  I  could  feel 
Like  as  if  steel  had  clashed  on  steel. 
I  couldn't  see  her,  but  I  know 
The  way  her  eyes  would  leap  and  glow. 
I  listened  then.     I  heard  him  say 
How  Jim  was  passing  by  that  way. 
How  he'd  looked  in  and  took  the  pup. 
And  Tony  left  'em  both  locked  up 
For  half  an  hour:  when  he  went  back 
The  pup  was  lying,  weak  and  slack. 
In  Jimmy's  arms,  and  he  was  spooning 
Milk  in  his  jaws,  and  sort  of  crooning 
As  if  the  beast  had  been  a  child. 
Then  out  raps  Dick,  all  hot  and  wild: 
"The  man's  a  gipsy!     Mooning  fool  I 
He's  soft  as  any  girl  from  school !  " 
Up  chirps  Tony,  bright  and  slick: 

105 


"  That's  more  than  some  be,  Mister  Dick  I  " 
"  The  devil  wears  a  smiling  face," 
Says  Dick,  "  but  them  as  pray  for  grace 
Because  their  hearts  were  born  in  sin 
Don't  give  the  devil  grin  for  grin! 
No !     Them  as  grin  are  them  as  go 
On  any  roads  the  winds  may  blow, 
And  some  winds  blow  to  hell,  they  say, 
With  drink  and  poaching  by  the  way." 
I  sipped  my  rum.     I  didn't  turn: 
I  watched  the  fire  flick  up  and  burn 
Like  blood  blazed  up  in  Maggie's  heart. 
I  felt  her,  like  as  if  a  part 
Of  her  was  beating  hot  in  me; 
I  didn't  need  to  turn  and  see. 
Then,  like  a  high  note  sharply  played, 
I  heard  her  call  out:     "  Ain't  he  paid; 
Haven't  you  seen  he  paid  twice  over? 
And  which  of  you  that  lives  in  clover 
Hasn't  deserved  the  same?     But  you 
Look  you're  not  caught  at  things  you  do ! 
Jim's  been  in  gaol  for  getting  caught. 
That's  enough  paid,  I  should  have  thought! 
Three  months  in  gaol  for  just  one  hare! 
And  Mister  Masters  got  him  there!  " 
*'  He  went  to  gaol  for  something  more," 
Dick  snarled.     "  Yes!     What  he  did  it  for! 
Let's  tell  'em  why  he  went  to  gaol!  " 

io6 


My  Maggie  cried;  "  they'll  like  that  tale !  " 

Then  Harry  muttered :     "  Mag,  let  be." 

She  laughed  a  kind  of  scornful  glee. 

"  ril  tell  'em,  then!     I'll  tell  'em  plain!  " 

She  said.     "  A  woman  took  with  pain 

Of  birth,  he  did  It  for.     She  lay 

In  Mister  Masters's  yard  all  day, 

And  not  a  bite  of  food  they  brought  her  — 

No,  not  a  cup  of  plain  cold  water. 

In  cattle's  straw  they  let  her  He, 

That  poor  soul  that  was  fit  to  die. 

And  that's  where  her  dead  babe  was  born!  " 

The  air  was  angry  with  her  scorn, 

But  no  one  spoke,  and  she  went  on: 

"  Well,  now  I'll  tell  you  what  Jim  done. 

He  carried  her  to  Haley's  Wood, 

To  where  a  broken  wood-shed  stood; 

He  stole  some  dry  straw  for  her  bed, 

Then  took  her  baby  that  was  dead 

And  burled  It  with  loving  care 

Under  the  wind  flowers  growing  there. 

Well,  then  you  know  how  he  was  caught  — 

Cooking  a  hare  he  hadn't  bought  — 

By  Mister  Masters." 

"  That's  enough ! 
How  can  you  let  her  talk  such  stuff? 
A  chit  like  her  to  speak  so  bold! 
It  isn't  decent !     I  don't  hold 

107 


With  bits  of  girls  like  her  in  here: 
Their  minds  take  on  a  smell  of  beer, 
I'm  thinking." 

"  Now  then;  now  then,  Dick! 
Steady.     That  talk's  a  bit  too  thick!  " 
Said  Harry,  quiet  like,  but  grim. 
Which  is  a  way  he's  got  with  him. 
"  Well,  keep  her  quiet,  then." 

*'Now,  Mag." 
"  She's  got  a  fiery  tongue  to  wag, 
That  girl  of  yours !  she  talks  too  hot." 
*'  And  so  did  Jim !     You  ain't  forgot 
The  Scripture  he  talked  back  at  you  I 
He  let  you  have  it  hot  and  true  I 
He  turned  the  tables  on  you  then. 
You  that  throw  texts  like  stones  at  men." 
Then  Dick  got  up.     "  What  call  had  he 
To  quote  the  word  o'  God  to  me? 
That  gipsy  fool !     That  heathen  clod ! 
That  swine  that  don't  believe  in  God!  " 
"  Not  in  your  God !     Your  God's  like  you, 
Spying  the  sorrowful  things  men  do ! 
He  makes  a  chap  a  sneaking  slave. 
He  dogs  his  steps  from  birth  to  grave, 
He  keeps  him  quiet  with  bribe  and  threat. 
And  takes  good  care  he  don't  forget 
His  sins,  and  makes  him  pay  full  price 
For  all  Christ  Jesus'  sacrifice! 
But  that's  all  lies.     Your  God's  not  true  1 

1 08 


God's  not  a  gamekeeper,  like  you !  " 
''That's  blasphemy!" 

"  Come,  Maggie  dear." 
"  I  won't  have  that  girl  kept  In  here  I 
Blasphemous  chit!     Send  her  to  bed!  " 
"  Come,  Masters :  come,  man !     Keep  your  head." 
"  I'll  not  stay  here  while  she's  about!  " 
"  Well,  Masters,  I'll  not  send  her  out," 
Said  Harry,  almost  softly;  "  she 
Shall  stay  where  she've  a  mind  to  be." 
"  Then  I've  a  mind  to  seek  a  place 
Where  I  shan't  see  her  brazen  face!  " 
*'  So  be  it,  Dick." 

"  I'll  not  forgive 
You,  Harry,  long  as  I  may  live !  " 
"  Nobody  asked  you,  Dick.     You  can 
Get  out;  and  so  may  any  man 
As  don't  like  Maggie.     So  good-night." 
"  Well,  she  finds  grace  with  gipsy  Jim! 
I  don't  compete  wi'  likes  of  him!  " 
"  Say  what  you  mean." 

"  I'll  say  no  more." 
"  Say  what  you  mean.     Kate,  shut  that  door. 
Now  then,  Dick  Masters.     Out  with  It." 
"  Ask  her  yourself,  man:  ask  your  chit 
What  call  a  decent  girl  has  got 
Defending  gipsy  Jim  so  hot!  " 
Then  I  heard  Maggie  draw  her  breath 
Sharp  In  her  teeth,  and  I  felt  death 

109 


On  my  old  heart.     "  My  pretty  one, 
See  what  your  lovely  pride  has  done  I  " 
I  thought;  and  my  old  rusty  eyes 
Wept  aching  tears  for  that  man's  lies. 
But  she  was  quiet  when  she  spoke, 
Though  her  soft  voice  fell  like  a  stroke 
On  me.     "  Why,  every  call !  "  she  said. 
"  Dad,  tell  them  Jim  and  me's  to  wed.'* 
He  paused,  then  said  at  last:     ^'  That's  so." 
"  Congratulations!     Well,  I'll  go," 
Said  Dick;  "  that's  half  a  crown. 
I  like  to  pay  my  money  down." 
"  You'll  want  some  change,"  said  Harry,  plain 
And  cold:  ''  you'll  not  be  here  again." 
I  know  the  others  slunk  out  after 
Without  their  usual  noise  and  laughter. 
I  didn't  hear  them  say  good-night, 
I  hadn't  neither  ears  nor  sight 
For  them;  the  world  went  cold  and  black. 
As  if  I  lay  on  some  slow  rack 
In  lonely  darkness.     Gradually 
My  darling's  voice  came  back  to  me, 
Thin,  dull,  and  strange;  she  said: 
"  You're  vexed  that  Jim  and  me's  to  wed. 
Oh,  do  you  think  I  cannot  see 
That  you  and  father's  shamed  for  me?  " 
*'  No,  no;  Jim's  not  so  bad,"  said  Kate. 
''  Ah,  yes,  you're  like  the  rest;  you  hate 
Things  you  don't  rightly  understand, 

no 


Like  my  poor  Jim.     You're  cruel,  too, 
When  you're  afraid." 

"  We'd  hopes  for  you. 
That's  all,"  said  Kate.     *'  A  girl  must  choose 
Her  own  life;  only  when  we  lose 
Children,  like  old  folk  must,  I  know, 
It's  hard.     Us  mothers  watch  'em  grow 
From  little  things,  not  good,  nor  bad, 
But  helpless;  then  come  lass  and  lad 
With  dreams  of  venturing  and  love. 
Them  as  we  thought  could  only  move 
By  help  of  us  have  no  more  needs 
We'll  satisfy:  they're  hot  for  deeds 
Our  eyes  can't  see  the  end  of,  things 
Our  ears  are  deaf  to  calls  and  sings 
For  them  so  loud  they  cannot  hear 
Wisdom  our  age  can  see  so  clear. 
That's  how  it's  come  with  you  and  Jim. 
Somehow  I  hadn't  thought  of  him 
When  I  was  fancying  the  lad 
Who'd  take  our  girl  from  me  and  Dad. 
But  If  you  love  him,  that's  enough. 
Some  roads  lie  smooth,  and  some  lie  rough; 
It's  no  use  barring  'em.     You'll  find 
The  road  that's  natural  to  your  mind. 
And  that's  the  road  you'll  travel  by. 
However  many  paths  you  try." 
Kate  wasn't  often  one  to  say 
Things  other  folk  will  give  away 

III 


Cheaper  than  windfalls:  things,  I  mean, 
That  touches  tears.     She's  always  been 
Locked  up  and  steady,  like  her  Harry; 
And  when  they  say  that  folk  should  marry 
Their  opposltes  I  say  they're  wrong. 
For  If  you  marry  weak  to  strong, 
Under  strength's  heel  the  weak  soul  lies, 
Or  curbs  and  drains  strength  till  he  dies. 
But  If  you  marry  mate  to  mate 
You  kindle  powers  that  laugh  at  fate, 
And  smaller  things  that  put  love  out  — 
That's  what  poor  Kate  was  grieved  about. 
She  knew  our  Maggie  to  the  core. 
She'd  seen  the  light  her  forehead  bore; 
She  knew  how  soft  her  strength  could  burn 
In  pity,  how  some  women  yearn 
To  feed  the  weak  on  their  hearts'  blood. 
Until  the  weak  do  make  their  rood. 
She  knew  all  that,  and  so  she  grieved; 
But  she  knew  more,  for  she  believed 
No  power  on  earth  could  drag  her  down 
Whose  head  was  shaped  to  wear  a  crown. 
Then  Jim  came  in :  his  step  was  dull, 
Like  one  who'd  got  a  load  to  pull. 
He'd  been  with  Harry's  ailing  mare 
All  day:  I'll  say  that;  he  would  care 
For  beasts  as  If  they'd  been  his  kin; 
Ill-treating  beasts  was  all  the  sin 
He  knew.     He  weren't  no  poacher  —  how 

112 


He  killed  that  hare  quite  beats  me  now, 

Unless  that  woman  seemed  to  be 

A  dumb  beast  In  her  misery, 

And  her  long  pain  deserved  the  price 

Of  one  hare's  painless  sacrifice. 

Somehow  I  knew  the  mare  was  dead 

Before  he  spoke:  he  groaned  and  said: 

"  You  never  saw  a  horse  die.     When 

You  do  you'll  know  It's  worse  than  men, 

They  suffer  so.     I  did  my  best." 

"  I  know  you  did,"  said  Maggie;  "  rest 

If  you  can  now,  Jim,  my  dear." 

Kate  said:     "  Now  don't  you  settle  here; 

The  kitchen's  cosier." 

"  Let  him  be, 
Mother;  he'll  be  all  right  with  me," 
Said  Maggie.     *'  Hush,  Jim,  you  keep  still. 
Mother,  do  go;  I'm  feared  he's  ill. 
Leave  him  to  me.     Ah,  Jim,  don't  cry." 
"  Horses  are  patient  when  they  die! 
You  didn't  see,  you'll  never  know 
The  way  she  looked  at  me ;  as  though 
I'd  done  It.     Oh,  but  It's  sweet  to  rest 
Like  this,  all  tired,  against  your  breast. 
So  big  and  warm  you  are,  and  strong. 
I'd  like  to  die  now.     Life's  too  long, 
And  men  grow  old.     I  often  pray 
To  die  before  then." 


113 


*'  Jim,  don't  say 
Such  things:  it's  wicked!  " 

"WeU,  Ido: 
Or  turn  a  dog,  for  dogs  are  true, 
And  men  are  not." 

"  Ah,  Jim,  now  don't." 
"  It's  truth.     Well,  kiss  me;  then  I  won't." 
*'0h,  Jim!" 

"  Oh,  Maggie,  kiss  again." 
**  Jim  —  Jim  —  you  make  it  seem  like  pain  1  " 
"  I'm  glad.     That's  love." 

"Is  it?     Hush,  Jim, 
There's  grandpa." 

"  Who's  afraid  of  him? 
He's  sleeping  now,  like  old  men  should." 
"No  — Jim." 

"  All  right.     As  if  I  would 
If  you're  not  willing." 

"  You're  not  well: 
You  must  be  quiet  now." 

"  To  hell 
With  that!     I  say  I'm  well  enough; 
I  hate  such  namby-pamby  stuff. 
I  know  you  cannot  always  kiss, 
And  if  you  can't,  there's  naught  amiss. 
But,  Maggie,  I'm  going  away  from  here." 
"  Don't  talk  so  silly,  my  own  dear; 
You  understand  me  better:  there. 
Kiss  me :  you're  tired  with  nursing  mare." 

114 


''  No.     Tisn't  that;  but  I  must  go." 
*'  Where  are  you  going?  " 

''  I  dunno." 
"But  you'll  be  back?" 

"  I  don't  know  when." 
"  Am  I  a-coming  with  you,  then?  " 
"  You  couldn't.     Not  tramp  the  roads,  you  can't." 
"  Tramping?     Oh,  Jim  —  oh,  no  —  you  shan't." 
"  I  must." 

"  Jim.     Tell  me.     What's  all  this? 
Don't  tease  my  heart  out  for  that  kiss ! 
Ah,  Jim,  don't  turn  your  face  away ! 
Laugh  at  me  —  say  it's  only  play." 
"  It's  not." 

"  But,  Jim  —  we're  to  be  wed.'* 
"  I  can't." 

"  Jim  —  what  was  that  you  said?  " 
1  can  t. 

"  Then  all  the  rest's  a  lie? 
You  said  you  loved  me." 

''Ah,  that's  why  I 
Maggie  —  I  love  you  —  I  do  —  I  do ! 
I  dare  not  wed  you.     I'm  not  true 
To  anything  but  beauty  —  no  — 
I'll  never  do  it !     I  must  go  1 
I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you  turn 
Old;  see  all  your  beauty  burn 
To  ashes,  like  your  mother's;  hear 
Your  voice  turn  rusty  in  my  ear, 

115 


You  that's  been  so  sweet  to  me  I 

I  shall  remember  you  —  and  see 

Where  your  stays  end;  in  your  cheeks 

Little  red  veins  where  warm  blood  speaks 

Now  to  my  kisses !     Kisses  cold 

On  our  pinched  lips  when  we  are  old! 

How  could  I  bear  it?     I'll  not  change 

So  quickly:  men  don't:  I  shall  range 

New  fields  for  beauty  while  I  live, 

Where  you  can't  follow.     Women  give 

Their  beauty  up  to  many  things; 

Work  and  child-bearing  dries  the  springs 

Of  beauty,  and  when  beauty's  gone 

How  could  I  leave  you  then  alone 

And  withered  up,  yet  how  could  I 

Stay  with  the  ghost  of  what's  gone  by?  " 

"  Ah !     Stop  that  talk !     Ah,  stop,  Jim  dear  I 

It's  words !     All  words  I     I  will  not  hear !  " 

"  You  know  it's  not.     You  understand, 

You  that  have  loved  me.     Give  your  hand. 

You  know  I  couldn't  ever  bear 

To  touch  you  and  not  feel  magic  there. 

Better  to  go  before  we're  bound." 

*'  It's  too  late  now.     You  should  have  found 

All  this  before." 

"  Why  —  what  d'you  mean?  " 
"  We're  bound  now,  if  we've  never  been. 
I  told  them  all  to-night,  and  Dad 
Told  'em,  too.     Masters  drove  me  mad, 

Ii6 


Blackening  you,  Jim;  I  forgot 
Everything.     I  spoke  up  too  hot, 
Defending  you  before  them  all. 
He  jibed  me  for  it;  asked  what  call 
I  had  to  speak  so  free:     I  said 
That  you  and  me  was  to  be  wed. 
I  couldn't  help  it.     I  was  shamed. 
If  you'd  been  there  you'd  not  have  blamed 
Me  for  it.     Oh,  my  sweetheart,  say 
You  didn't  mean  you're  going  away  I 
I  love  you,  Jim!     I  love  you  so! 
Look  at  me,  dear  —  you  cannot  go. 
You  know  you'll  never  find  another 
Who'll  be  your  love,  your  child,  your  mother, 
As  I  have  been  —  and  I'll  be  more ! 
I  can  be  all  you  want !     There's  store 
Of  love  in  me  you've  yet  to  take ! 
Ah,  Jim,  a  man  like  you  can  make 
A  queen  of  me,  or  else  a  slave. 
Each  Is  your  own,  my  dear;  I  gave 
Myself  to  you,  not  just  a  part, 
When  you  came  calling  at  my  heart. 
You  don't  know  all  of  me,  my  sweet. 
Jim,  look  at  me.     I'll  kiss  your  feet, 
I'll  press  your  feet  against  my  breast 
Until  It  hurts!     Jim,  take  my  best! 
Ah,  Jim,  I've  got  so  much  to  give ! 
I  pray  a  thousand  years  to  live, 
And  every  hour  of  them  should  prove 

117 


All  that  I  mean  when  I  say  *  love.'  " 
The  tears  splashed  hot  on  my  cold  hand 
Because  he  couldn't  understand. 
That  spineless  fool  could  see  her  there 
Stripping  her  lovely  spirit  bare; 
Let  her  kneel  down,  so  proud,  and  kiss 
His  brutish  feet;  hear  her,  and  miss 
Her  beauty  that  can  never  die. 
Swine  make  the  muck  where  they  must  lie. 
Small  grace  to  him  he  couldn't  speak 
For  shame.     O  God,  how  she  was  meek  I 
And  then  she  must  have  seen  his  eyes 
And  known  herself  at  last  too  wise 
With  wisdom  clear  and  pitiless. 
But  her  first  words  were  gentleness. 
"  I  never  knew  you  didn't  mean 
To  wed  me,  Jim,  or  I'd  have  been 
More  careful.     You've  been  cruel  to  me, 
Although  you  didn't  mean  to  be. 
I  know  you  didn't  mean  no  harm, 
Your  heart's  too  pitiful  and  warm, 
But  gentle  souls  can  be  unkind 
When  they're  not  brave  to  speak  their  mind. 
I  wish  you'd  had  the  heart  to  say 
You  always  meant  to  go  away." 
Jim  groaned.     "  Oh,  hell,  I  didn't  know." 
"  Ah,  you  don't  see  the  way  you  go. 
You're  not  the  sort  to  think  things  out: 
You  feel,  and  then  you've  no  more  doubt 

ii8 


Until  the  thing  you  feel  is  dead, 
And  then  it  weighs  on  you  like  lead." 
*'  That's  true,"  Jim  muttered. 

"Yes,  it's  true! 
But  tell  me  what  I've  got  to  do !  " 
She  blazed  up  suddenly.     "  I'd  die 
Of  shame  when  people  passed  me  by! 
I  should  go  crazed  of  nights  a-thinking 
What  men  would  say  when  they  were  drinking! 
How  do  you  think  those  men  would  speak 
Of  me,  who's  never  let  my  cheek 
Come  near  a  man's  lips  in  my  life 
Till  you  came  courting?     ^  Jim  Dale's  wife 
That  nearly  was,  but  wasn't  quite !  ' 
Look  at  me!     Must  I  face  their  spite? 
I  was  well  thought  of  till  you  came. 
Am  I  the  one  to  bear  such  shame?  " 
Jim  answered,  but  his  voice  rang  flat: 
"  No,  you're  not  one  to  suffer  that. 
I'll  not  be  going.     I  was  wild. 
I  didn't  mean  it:  don't  be  riled." 
Maggie  was  still  before  she  spoke. 
Have  you  felt  spells  in  March  that  woke 
The  almond  buds  to  bloom,  so  still 
You  might  have  heard  the  daffodil 
Unfold  in  that  warm  lull?     Then  notes 
Of  birds  come  tender  from  their  throats, 
And  even  old  hearts  must  revive 
To  feel  the  world  come  new  alive. 

119 


Then,  if  you're  old  enough,  or  young, 
Soft  words  come  easier  on  your  tongue 
Because  the  birds  sing,  and  your  ears 
Catch  meanings  in  things  calling  tears. 
When  Maggie  spoke  I  knew  the  world 
Was  all  made  new,  and  joy  unfurled 
Green  shoots  in  me  to  greet  the  sun 
For  triumph  in  her  dear  heart  had  won. 
*'  You  said  you  loved  me,  Jim,  my  dear," 
She  said,  so  soft,  and  proud,  and  clear, 
The  air  was  moved  as  by  a  breeze. 
And  Jim  fell  crying  on  his  knees. 
"  I  do  —  I  love  you  —  I  do  —  I  say 
I  love  you,  Maggie  1  " 

"  In  your  way. 
My  dear,  you  do,  but  that's  not  much. 
You  that  must  always  feel  through  touch, 
You're  feared  to  see  me  look  like  Mother, 
You  think  that  time  and  work  can  smother 
Beauty  you've  known  by  love !     Ask  Dad 
If  they've  lost  any  joy  they've  had! 
I've  seen  them  look  across  this  room 
With  happy  eyes  that  lit  the  gloom, 
Although  my  Mother  cannot  stir 
Dad's  pulses  when  he  touches  her! 
You  that  fear  beauty  going  out. 
And  magic  with  it,  you  that  doubt 
Our  strength  and  love's,  looking  ahead 
To  that  black  time  when  love  is  dead, 

120 


Dreaming  you'll  tramp  away  to  see 

New  beauty  when  mine's  gone  from  me  — 

You  don't  know  love !     No,  love  has  sight 

For  beauty's  spirit  burning  bright 

When  bodies  change,  as  bodies  must, 

Like  everything  that's  made  from  dust. 

This  living  dust  of  me  and  you 

Was  made  to  speak  our  spirits  through, 

For  souls  are  dumb  and  cannot  say 

Their  love  except  through  forms  of  clay, 

And  that  man's  blind  who  cannot  trace 

God's  image  in  another's  face; 

But  he  who  sees  the  clay  alone 

Is  left  with  withered  flesh  and  bone, 

And  beauty  soons  goes  out  for  him 

Who  never  truly  saw  it,  Jim. 

You've  never  seen  me :  we  always  missed 

Each  other,  even  when  we  kissed. 

Oh,  Jim,  I  love  you !     Oh,  my  dear, 

I'd  give  my  soul  to  keep  you  near, 

But  I'll  not  chain  you  to  my  side; 

There's  no  shame  left  in  me,  nor  pride. 

It's  mostly  In  a  woman's  hand, 

I  think:     I  understand 

More  than  I  ever  knew  before. 

Oh,  Jim,  dear  love,  you've  given  me  more 

Than  other  women  let  go  by 

In  dreams!     That's  mine  until  I  die  I  " 

Then  Jim  cried  out  as  If  he'd  seen 

121 


A  blazing  vision:     "  Oh,  I've  been 
A  brute,  a  fool!     I'll  stay  with  you  I 
Say  you  forgive  me,  Maggie,  do, 
You  lovely  woman !     Men  are  swine  I 
Oh,  Maggie,  how  your  sweet  eyes  shine  I 
I'll  never  leave  you,  Maggie,  never." 
*'  Ah,  Jim,  we  can't  go  on  forever 
Living  like  this,  so  fierce  and  keen; 
There's  little  things  come  in  between. 
We  can't  live  like  this  all  the  time; 
You'd  hate  the  tracks  we'd  have  to  climb." 
*'  I'd  have  a  damn  good  try!  " 

*'Ah,  no; 
I  know  you  better,  Jim:  you  go." 

^'Oh,  Maggie " 

"  You've  given  me  all  you  can, 
And  that's  as  much  as  any  man 
Can  do.     I  think  you'll  always  give 
Joy  to  some  women  while  you  live, 
But  you  can't  give  them  happiness." 

*'  I  know  I'm  not  fit  to  touch  your  dress 

"  Hush,  don't  say  things  I  wouldn't  hear 
From  others.     Say  good-bye,  Jim  dear. 
Oh,  my  poor  love,  poor  Jim  —  don't  cry." 
"  Damn  it  —  don't  pity  me !     Good-bye  1  " 
And  so  It  ended.     Jim  rushed  out 
Crying  a  piteous,  anguished  shout 
Which  left  me  cold  as  heartless  stone, 

122 


11 


Because  I  heard  poor  Maggie  moan: 

She  cried,  but  she  was  very  still, 

She  must  have  stood  like  ice,  until 

She  heard  the  door-latch  move,  and  Harry 

Came  in.     "  Dad,  I'm  not  going  to  marry," 

She  said;  but  then  no  more;  no  blame, 

No  reasons  why.     Then  Harry  came 

And  took  her  hands.     "  Your  mother  said 

She'd  like  a  boy  when  we  was  wed," 

He  whispered;  "  but  I  always  knew 

I'd  like  a  girl,  and  that  come  true. 

A  woman  like  her  was  what  I  thought." 

He  paused,  then  said:     "  She's  overwrought 

With  all  them  glasses.     Could  you  dry 

Your  eyes  and  help  her  put  them  by?  " 

"  Yes,  Dad,"  she  said,  and  then  they  went 

Like  children,  hand  in  hand. 

Fm  spent 
With  telling  all  this.     Maggie,  peace 
Lay  on  you  till  the  sharp  pangs  cease. 
There's  little  each  for  each  can  do. 
Not  even  when  their  hearts  are  true. 
And  through  this  maze  of  bitter  strife 
No  man  can  read  the  aim  of  life. 
But  I  am  near  the  end.     I'm  going 
To  reap  the  harvest  of  my  sowing. 
I  shall  see  It  all  one  day. 
I  shall  learn  love's  rightful  way! 

123 


Only  one  thing  IVe  learned  quite  plain 
Here  on  this  earth:  no  love  is  vain! 
Rest  you,  my  darling,  rest  you,  dear, 
There's  hope  In  life  while  that  shines  clear! 


124 


O  MY  beloved,  how  to  keep  friends  with  time, 
Whose  monster  knees  press  life  from  our  sick  souls 
While  we  his  creaking  mill  of  hours  climb, 
Must  be  our  task  until  the  dark  wheel  rolls 
Into  new  light:  light  fled  when  you  and  I, 
Whose  life  is  one,  kissed  and  were  wrenched  apart. 
But  love  must  teach  us,  sweet,  how  not  to  die, 
Quicken  our  brains  to  this  laborious  art, 
Lest,  when  our  day  of  resurrection  break, 
The  long  stagnation  poison  our  first  breath. 
And  we,  whose  dream  was  this  reunion,  wake 
To  eyes  glazed  over  with  a  film  of  death. 
O  love,  shall  you  and  I,  by  love  made  free, 
Give  time  and  space  inglorious  victory? 


125 


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